
LIBRARY OF CO.NGRESS.i 

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! -«^ H5.0 | 



f UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 1 



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THE 



YOUNG MAN'S 
WAY, 



INTELLIGENCE, RESPECTABILITY, HONOR, AND 

USEFULNESS. 



BY 

/ 

REV. ANTHONY ATWOOD. 



"Give attendance to reading." 

"Study to show thyself approved."—^. Paul 

"By wisdom, is a house builded."— Solomon. 






PHILADELPHIA: 

J. W. MOORE, 193 CHESNUT STREET. 

1850. 



** 






Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 

ANTHONY ATWOOD, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, 

for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



STEREOTYPED BY J. PAGAN. 



(2) 



PREFACE. 



In presenting a second edition of this 
work to the public, the Author takes the li- 
berty of saying, that he has not consented 
to do it, until the call for it became so urgent 
that he deemed it a positive duty. The first 
edition was exhausted in a short time ; and 
for some years past not a copy was to be 
had, though frequently called for. The im- 
mediate necessity of another edition arose 
from the fact, that a gentleman recently died 
in this city, leaving by will a certain amount 
of money, to be expended in moral books, 
and furnished to a number of Sabbath- 
schools and other societies, in which this 
work is specially named, and his executors 
required to furnish it to their libraries. 

Some few alterations and emendations 
(v) 



VI 



PREFACE. 



have been made ip this, which did not ap- 
pear in the first edition. The Author would 
gladly credit all from whom he has received 
aid in writing the work, either in thought or 
language. But it is quite impossible. Hav- 
ing read, for the last twenty years, almost all 
the books published for the special benefit 
of young men, and used them in his pulpit 
discourses, it is out of his power to call up 
even the names of their authors, in every 
case. The work was prepared with a view 
to admonish, caution and persuade ; to in- 
duce young men to begin right, diligently to 
improve their time and talents, at the period 
when it could be done successfully. The 
hope of doing some good to those for whom 
the Author has felt a deep and abiding inte- 
rest for years, is the sole motive by which 
he has been influenced. 



It is not pretended, of course, that all is 
said upon any one of the topics introduced, 
that might have been. This would require 
a larger work, the price of which would 
have placed it out of the reach of the very 
class for whose benefit it was intended, and 



PREFACE. Vll 

thus defeated the Author's design. Besides, 
it would have required more time than he 
had to spare from other and pressing engage- 
ments. 

Imperfections will doubtless be found both 
in thought and style, by many who may chance 
to peruse the book. If, however, the object 
of the w r riter is gained, and the work is use- 
ful to those for w T hose improvement it has 
been undertaken, he is quite careless of other 
consequences. He wishes neither to preach 
nor write for show. Professing to be a utili- 
tarian in all respects, it is hoped that no 
other feeling has influenced him in penning 
a solitary sentence herein found. The most 
that has been aimed at, is clearness and 
force. No book written for the popular 
good should, in the Author's deeming, con- 
tain a sentence requiring to be read twice in 
order to be understood. The meaning 
should stare the reader in the face at once, 
or it will not be long remembered. Young 
persons of but little leisure, specially require 
such a style. It is believed, this has not 
been lost sight of from first to last. 



Vlll PREFACE. 

After this remark, the Author need not 
say that the work is principally intended for 
the working classes — on this point it speaks 
for itself. These, if any, are the neglected 
ones. Their parents are too apt to neglect 
their intellectual cultivation, and themselves 
are prone to think too little of their own 
powers and capacities. As a consequence, 
they fail to use the necessary efforts to deve- 
lop their own native energies. Circum- 
stances, in their view, preclude the possi- 
bility of their ever being men of general 
intelligence, or rising above the humble 
prospects of their birth. They have not 
time to read, as it is all devoted to toil and 
manual labour. And they are so beset by 
other difficulties and temptations, as to be 
prone to yield to necessity or the force of 
circumstances, and therefore use no efforts 
to rise to respectability and intelligence. In 
these pages an effort is made with such to 
banish discouragement, inspire with hope, 
and lead to activity and diligence, in the 
improvement of every fragment of time al- 
lotted them, in faithful application to study. 
The Author himself would have been thank- 



PREFACE. IX 

ful for such a work, during his minority. 
And he indulges the belief that no one pos- 
sessing the least ambition can read it without 
advantage. 

He also hopes that parents and guardians 
will feel sufficient interest in the present and 
future well-being of those committed to their 
care, to purchase a copy for each lad in their 
families, allow him to make it his own pro- 
perty, and faithfully advise him to read it. 
Its perusal may inspire ambition where there 
is none existing, and create an appetite for 
general reading, where otherwise it would 
never have existed. 

Sabbath School Teachers may find it to 
their advantage to read this small volume. 
It will not occupy much of their time. And 
if it shall induce greater reading habits, and 
provoke a worthy emulation in doing good, 
the time and labor thus bestowed will not be 
lost. From the ranks of Sabbath School 
Teachers are, doubtless, to arise many useful 
ministers and influential members of society. 
They should, therefore, improve the present 



X PREFACE. 

in faithful preparation for the future. Time 
lost now, will be a serious source of regret 
at a not very distant day. 

The Author sends it into the w T orld accom- 
panied by his fervent prayers for its useful- 
ness. That it may lead some, at least, into 
" the good and right way," and tend to pre- 
serve many others from those vices which 
have already ruined thousands. 

THE AUTHOR. 

Philad., Oct. 6, 1849. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter I. 13 

Responsibilities of the Young. — Interest they 
awaken in society — Influence they will 
have in future — Obligation to parents — 
Apprenticeship — Object of it. 



Chapter II. 34 

On Intellectual Attainments. — Education de- 
fined — Moral education — Way to obtain it 
— Discipline necessary — Discouragements 
— Too late to begin — Edmund Stone — 
Want of time — Economy of time — Want 
of taste — Taste cultivated — W. Scott's 
letter to his son — Bad memory — May be 
strengthened — Want of means — Induce- 
ments. 

(xi) 



Xll CONTENTS. 

Chapter III. 82 

On the importance of Character. — Study use- 
less without it — The man without a shadow 
— Self-respect — Personal appearance — Re- 
spect for others — Morality and religion — 
Benefits of early piety — Attention to reli- 
gion — Benefit of a firm faith — Energy of 
character — Dr. Franklin, &c. — Toil useful 
— Honesty — Economy— Kindness and good 
nature — Manliness always to be preserved. 

Chapter IV. - 121 

Dangers common to Youth. — Antagonistic 
influences — Ambition — Habits of useless 
intercourse — Gambling — The road to ruin 
— An example — Profanity — Infidelity — 
Profanation of the Sabbath — Light reading 
— Amusements — Theatres — Disobedience 
to parents — An awful example — Politics. 

Chapter V. 173 

Duties of Young Men. — Usefulness — Support 
Chu rches — Sabbath Schools — Tern perance 
— Responsibilities. 



THE 

YOUNG MAN'S WAY TO HONOR. 

CHAPTER I. 

RELATIVE IMPORTANCE AND RESPONSIBILITIES 
OF THE YOUNG. 

Every one should duly know his condi- 
tion and feel his responsibilities, at every 
point in his history, if he wishes at the close 
of life to review the past with any satisfac- 
tion. The principal part of the misery and 
regret experienced in advanced life, if traced 
to its source, would be found to originate 
in carelessness and early personal neglect. 
The importance of youth is learned by ob- 
serving its bearing upon afterlife. And this 
observance, with the course to which it 
leads, constitutes, mainly, if not entirely, 
the difference between men, as to honor or 
2 (13) 



14 RESPONSIBILITIES OF THE YOUNG. 

dishonor, success or failure. The lad who 
sees in himself all the lineaments of the fu- 
ture man, though now in miniature, and 
wisely commences their full development in 
early life, will stand among Princes. On 
the contrary, he who lives by no rule, care- 
lessly suffers the years of youth to pass 
away, and grows up as " nature's own 
child," without meditating his important 
relation to the world in which he lives, will, 
in nine cases out of ten, be a useless eum- 
berer of the ground. 

I would have the young reflect on the in- 
terest they awaken in society. Almost every 
movement, either great or small, has them 
for its object. The man of business, whose 
energies, both of body and mind, are taxed 
to the extent of their bearing, whose time 
and talents are continually occupied in the 
pursuit of gain, does not do all this barely 
for himself. For his own support and com- 
fort he has enough already, and could retire 
and take his rest for the balance of his days. 
But he looks to his children with an eye of 
parental fondness, and wishes to provide for 
them. The mind of the philanthropist, 



INTEREST TAKEN IN YOUTH. 15 

which is ever intent on the lasting good of 
community, seeks it not so much in efforts, 
having their bearing on those of mature 
years, or advanced age, as on the young and 
growing. He well knows that the former 
will soon be no more, and the latter must 
occupy their places in every department of 
society. For whose benefit are schools and 
colleges erected, and maintained at such a 
vast expense of time and treasure? On 
whose account are so many books w r ritten 
and published, on every subject within the 
range of human knowledge and research, 
simplifying every science, and opening all 
the mysteries of nature to the common eye ? 
For what are Sabbath Schools maintained 
and promoted in almost every church in the 
Christian world ? The object of the whole 
is the improvement of the youthful mind 
and heart, and through them the bettering 
of the mental, moral, and social condition 
of mankind. 

And is all this a light matter to be care- 
lessly heeded and little appreciated by those 
for w 7 hose . benefit the whole exists ? Will 
they, can they be so reckless as to dash the 



16 IGNORANT OF WHAT WE MAY BE. 

cup of blessings from their lips, and disap- 
point the cherished expectations of those who 
seek their best interests now and throughout 
their being ? Whatever may be the course 
of some, I am persuaded by present indica- 
tions, that the great majority of young men 
who receive the impulses of this enterprising 
age, and the educational advantages which 
it affords, will be properly roused to activity 
in the faithful improvement of their lofty ad- 
vantages. The qualifications necessary to 
meet these vast responsibilities, are not to 
be gained by a listless course of inaction — 
nor by luxuriating in the dreamy paths of 
fashionable ease and idleness. This will 
rust out the better faculties of our nature, as 
well as fix ruinous habits, to destroy which 
the regrets of a whole life will be wholly 
unavailing. 

The author of our being and director of 
our lives has wisely concealed from us future 
circumstances. It is not in the power of 
man to tell what responsibilities he will have 
to bear, or what offices he will have to fill, in 
the nation or church. Could this be ascer- 
tained at an early period of life, each one 



IGNORANT OF WHAT WE MAY BE. 17 

would naturally pursue the studies which 
would confer a qualification for that specific 
employment, and shut himself out, more or 
less, from all other knowledge. But as the 
tendency of this would be to cut society up 
into various professions, and by interposing 
an impassable bar between each, would dis- 
unite and estrange the members of a great 
family from each other, Divine Providence 
has forbidden it. As no man, therefore, can 
foresee what will be required of him in the 
future detail of life's affairs, common pru- 
dence admonishes all to be ready for almost 
anything that can in propriety be required 
of a man. I once knew a lad who lived in 
the country, and attended a country school 
some three months in each year ; where the 
principal branches taught, were reading, 
writing, and arithmetic. But few in that 
school deemed it necessary to go further 
than this. All other learning than that im- 
mediately required in ordinary country busi- 
ness was supposed to be useless, and even 
deleterious, as it fostered human pride. The 
lad referred to, had somewhere seen a small 
geography, and became desirous to have 
2* 



18 A PLACE FOR EVERY ONE. 

some knowledge of it ; but his friends dis- 
couraged and finally prevented him from 
undertaking it, alleging that it could not 
possibly do him any good, as he would 
never be placed in circumstances where 
such knowledge would be required. But 
how w T ere they mistaken, for in the arrange- 
ments of the wise disposer of events, that 
same lad became a minister of Jesus Christ 
to dying man. And what his parents deemed 
unnecessary, and therefore not only neglected 
to teach him, but refused to let him learn, 
he had to acquire at a great disadvantage 
when engaged in the responsible and active 
duties of his profession. 

Nor is this a solitary case — scores of the 
same character might be adduced, was it 
deemed necessary ; but it is not. No man 
can tell, until some experience has furnished 
him the material of calculation, what part he 
is to act, or what place he is naturally or 
habitually best fitted to occupy. The world 
is before every youth, and although all offices 
and places may seem occupied and so filled 
up that no place is left for him, yet those 
laws are always at w T ork which, having made 



A PLACE FOR EVERY ONE. 19 

way for those before, will clear a place for 
him also. But little did Patrick Henry, or 
his friends, dream of the part he was destined 
to occupy, when he was lounging about 
some stream with his angling rod, or tra- 
versing some wood with his gun. There 
can be no question, but that he frequently 
regretted in after life the manner in which he* 
had spent his boyhood and youth. He was 
a great man, it is true, but his greatness was 
that of the mountain torrent, rather than the 
steady fertilizing stream. His grasp upon 
a subject was strong and tremendous, but 
not continuous. Had he accustomed him- 
self to hard study, and disciplined his mind 
in early life, he would have been a far dif- 
ferent man, and, most probably, much more 
useful to his country. 

Every man is more or less responsible for 
the doings of the world. Each individual 
is a constituent part of general society, and 
has influence somewhere, for which he will 
have to account either in this life or the one 
which is to follow. It is when viewing 
youth in this light, that they are magnified 
into the greatest importance. They no longer 



20 ALL HAVE INFLUENCE. 

appear isolated and solitary, but are seen 
rising to the exertion of a power of most fear- 
ful consequence to themselves and others. 

It was this that led Mr. Wesley to say — 
" I reverence a young man, because he will 
live and act when I am dead." This is the 
sentiment of every real philanthropist, who, 
•instead of looking barely upon himself, thinks 
and feels for his race. Young men are the 
strength and hope of the nation. Our fathers, 
who formed our laws, and fashioned those 
institutions of which we are so proud, and 
of which we are wont to make our boast, are 
dead, or dying, and it. is a question of no 
small interest, who shall rise up to take 
their places of honor and trust ? The rising 
generation must do it. But w T ill they be 
qualified to stand in their places and dis- 
charge their duties with respectability and 
honor — to their own, and the country's ad- 
vantage ?- It has ever been true, " that when 
the wicked rule, the people mourn. 5 ' And 
such is the present state of politics in our 
country, that the unworthy and vicious are 
most apt to gain the ascendency. Having 
no fixed moral principles to serve as a re- 



VIRTUOUS PRINCIPLES. 21 

straint, they are at liberty to descend to the 
low arts of trick and bribery, loud huzzas 
and street broils, to effect their purposes. 
While the upright citizen, guided by correct 
principles, and taking no step but what is 
strictly honorable, is frequently prevented 
from reaching the place for which he is well 
qualified, because he will not meet the vul- 
gar on their own ground. 

It was a remark of a distinguished man 
in our nation's history, that "in a govern- 
ment founded on the public will — where the 
voice of the people can build up or pull 
down at pleasure — it is a truth of plain and 
fearful import, that this will must be under 
the regulation and control of sound and en- 
lightened principles, or virtue will very soon 
have no defence, and vice no check. In no 
age of the world has there been greater need 
of high moral and intellectual culture. What 
else shall restrain the excess of passion, or 
check the outbreakings of misrule and licen- 
tiousness ? Vain will be the majesty of our 
laws, and unavailing their sanctions, if reli- 
gion shall be despoiled of its authority, and 
conscience lose its influence. Let these foun- 



22 OBLIGATION TO PARENTS. 

dations be destroyed, and the main pillars of 
our institutions must sink together, in one 
general ruin, and history add another page 
to the sad record of departed republics." 

Thus will every youth see that he cannot 
live to himself, confine his influence at plea- 
sure, nor shake off the weight of responsi- 
bility which is placed upon him without his 
consent? Your parents, to whom you are 
indebted for your being, and all the cares 
which early childhood required, look to you 
for some return for their vast expenditure of 
time and toil in your behalf. A life of virtue 
and manly rectitude, reflecting honor and 
credit upon them, will be the only reward 
which to them will be satisfactory. Obedi- 
ence and filial affection on your part, is in- 
dispensable to their happiness and to yours. 
Let no youth, on arriving at majority, deem 
himself absolved from the necessity of fur- 
ther obedience to parents. Though he is 
permitted to act for himself — to appropriate 
at pleasure the proceeds of his own labor, 
yet is he not free of the law 7 of his parents. 
Nor will he be, until they are laid in the 
dust. The same law that required them to 



MUCH NOW DONE FOR YOUTH. 23 

bear with his youthful follies, and watch over 
him night and day, in sickness and health, 
now binds him to reciprocate their acts of 
goodness, and lend the supporting hand of 
kindness to tottering age. Obedience to 
parents is the first commandment with a 
promise, whilst disobedience and neglect is 
visited with Heaven's severest retributions. 
It is seldom, indeed, that the disobedient and 
unkind to parents live out their full time, or 
are as successful in temporal business as 
other men. They are generally unhappy in 
marriage, and their children in turn treat 
them with the same carelessness and dis- 
respect. Thus do miseries and misfortunes 
seem to cleave to the family, as by an entail, 
like the leprosy of Gehazi. If but one word 
of advice to youth were allowed me, I would 
say, be obedient to parents, and never bring 
a disgrace on those w T ho best love you. 

Much is now doing for the youth of our 
own country, and of the civilized world. 
Lyceums and Literary Societies abound 
everywhere, and are still increasing in num- 
ber and usefulness. Time and money thus 
lavishly expended, are far from being wasted, 



24 OBJECT OF IT. 

though many efforts may seem to fail. Much 
seed thrown into the ground is destined to 
perish, by a combination of circumstances ; 
but still the husbandman is rewarded by 
what comes to maturity. So that no one 
should give place to discouragement, in 
view of the ruined about him. Too much 
labor cannot be bestowed upon the youthful 
portion of the community ; too much careful 
supervision, on the part of parents and guar- 
dians, cannot be had. 

If I could awaken in every youthful bo- 
som, a true sense of the dignity of his being, 
the magnitude of his duties, the responsibili- 
ties of his situation, and induce him to look 
well to his future destinies, as a man and an 
immortal being, my purpose would be fully 
realized. What each one is to be hereafter 
throws around him an overwhelming interest 
now. It is principally this, which gives such 
an importance to all young persons. The 
design of these pages, is to arouse their acti- 
vity if it slumbers, to call out their energies, 
by early and well directed exercises ; that 
when their muscles and whole physical form 
shall be fully developed, they may be intel- 



APPRENTICESHIP. 25 

lectually and physically men ; men qualified 
for any and every station in life to which 
they may be called by the voice of their fel- 
lows, or the providence of God. 



APPRENTICESHIP. 

It should never be thought a disgrace to 
be an apprentice. If it be called bondage, 
it is an honourable bondage. I see but little 
difference between the rich and the poor in 
this particular. All have to pass through a 
course of preparation for after life. The 
more affluent send their sons to school from 
early youth to the first stages of manhood. 
During this time they are virtually appren- 
tices, subject to strict rules, which they dare 
not transgress ; under continual fear of su- 
periors ; tasked during the whole day, and 
sometimes for a good part of the night, to 
the utmost stretch of their abilities, they 
have but little time they can call their own. 
Like apprentices to a mechanical business, 
they are generally away from home, and the 
indulgent influences of parental kindness; 
3 



26 HONORABLE. 

have to eat at a common table, but illy sup- 
plied with luxuries, and barely sufficient in 
quantity to meet and satisfy the calls of na- 
ture. 

The difference you perceive is more in 
name than reality. Nor is the toil of the 
student at College a whit less severe and 
laborious than that of the lad apprenticed to 
learn any ordinary mechanical business. It 
is therefore difficult to see why the condition 
of one should be less reputable than the 
other, or why the common apprentice should 
be esteemed and looked upon as an inferior 
to the College student. Both are learning a 
business, which is to prepare them for after 
life, that they may be serviceable to them- 
selves, and the community in which they are 
to live. Nor can it ordinarily be said with 
truth, that professional men are more import- 
ant to the world than industrious and upright 
workingmen. 

It is the lot of every man to work his way 
through life in some form ; for this, he must 
seek a preparation during minority. All 
men come into the world alike ignorant of 
either mechanics or science, and have to be 



OBJECT OF APPRENTICESHIP. 27 

taught by those who were once as destitute 
as themselves. Can that, therefore, be deem- 
ed disreputable which is the common lot of 
all, and is to prepare for the doings of man- 
hood, and the acquisition of wealth and com- 
fort ? The prejudice against labor is as un- 
natural as it is unphilosophical and wicked. 
It has injured society more than all the revo- 
lutions that have ever occurred. 

In becoming an apprentice, it is true, a 
man is put under the power and control of 
another; but it is to gain power for himself. 
It is a brief and voluntary surrender of liberty 
for the sake of future gain, and should be 
considered as purchasing what another has 
to sell, at a given price. In all such trans- 
actions there are two parties, both having 
rights, which each is bound in all fairness 
and honor to respect. The master is obli- 
gated to teach, instruct and fulfil all his pro- 
mises ; and the apprentice is equally pledged 
to reverence and obey. There is, however, 
in some instances, a restlessness on the part 
of the latter, a desire of freedom and inde- 
pendence before the allotted time, wholly 
inconsistent with either his present happiness 
or future well-being. 



28 DISSATISFIED. 

The indulgence of this discontent is most 
disastrous in its consequences. It shuts out 
all desire of intellectual improvement, ren- 
ders him who harbors it constantly miserable, 
sours his disposition, prevents his faithful- 
ness, and in some cases leads him meanly to 
abscond. Among all the cases which have 
come under my observation where this has 
occurred, I have not been able to discover 
one that has eventuated well. This rash step, 
generally taken in haste, is often followed 
by the most serious consequences, and I be- 
lieve always by sincere regret. Such, in 
general, have but half learned their trade, so 
that it is difficult for them to find employ- 
ment ; are throw T n among strangers who feel 
little or no interest in their welfare, and are 
therefore exposed to misery and humiliation, 
a thousand times worse than that from which 
they have fled. Add to these, the fear of 
pursuit and detection, the constant sense of 
shame, and fearful burden of conscious dis- 
grace, which are ever haunting the mind, and 
'you have some idea of the wretchedness of 
him who has broken his obligation, by flee- 
ing from his employer. 



GOOD CONDUCT REWARDED. 29 

I cannot too strongly guard you against 
such a course. If you wish to sustain cha- 
racter and win the respect of those about 
you, now and hereafter, you will conduct 
yourself very differently. Strict conscientious 
obedience, which will not allow you to " an- 
swer again,'' is the duty of all, in your cir- 
cumstances. The way to honor is humility. 
He who humbleth himself now shall be here- 
after exalted. The master mechanic who 
now has the direction of several hundred 
hands, was once in your condition. By com- 
pelling himself contentedly to submit to his 
lot then, he learned his business, obtained 
the good will of his employer, and establish- 
ed a character which has served as a passport 
to his present standing and influence. 

If the promptings of a praiseworthy ambi- 
tion lead you to hope for similar eminence 
and standing, the w T ay is open before you. 
In order to such a result, the right course 
must be taken now. Rise early and be at 
your work; spend no time in idleness and 
careless chat ; carry about you an open and 
frank countenance, and treat all your fellow 
apprentices with due respect. Be ever seek- 
3* 



30 SEEK EMPLOYERS' INTEREST. 

ing the interest of your employer as you 
would desire others to do by yourself, if 
placed in his circumstances. By this course 
you will gain his confidence and secure his 
favor, a matter of vast importance to every 
apprentice. Nothing so effectually injures 
and blasts the earthly prospects of those in 
your situation as to be called " eye servants." 
This you are to avoid by determined dili- 
gence, and the most resolute faithfulness. 
Your work should be done as well and with 
as much speed, when alone, as when under 
the eye of your employer. 

" Seest thou a man diligent in his busi- 
ness?" says Solomon; " he shall stand be- 
fore kings." We have a striking illustration 
of this aphorism in the life of Dr. Franklin, 
who, quoting the sentence himself, adds : 
" This is true ; I have stood in the presence 
of five kings, and once had the honour of 
dining with one ;" all in consequence of 
having been " diligent in business" from his 
earliest years. What a lesson is this for our 
youth, and for us all ! 

Strict truth and honesty, in small matters 
as well as large, should be ever maintained. 



DISCIPLINE GOOD. 31 

The reverse of this will ruin you forever, 
however industrious you may be. For every 
falsehood you tell now, and every penny's 
worth, directly or indirectly abstracted from, 
your employer, you will have to pay a fearful 
interest, in the future details of life. 

It is quite possible that you may deem 
your work too hard, the labor too severe, 
and the discipline too stern and rigid. Bat 
of this you are, at present, not a good judge. 
It may be for your good, by giving you a 
hardy constitution, preventing evil habits, 
and teaching you the way to success in busi- 
ness when of age. At any rate, you will 
see the reason for this hereafter, and it may 
serve a valuable purpose in the future direc- 
tion of your life. A present seeming evil 
may be the germ of lasting good. Never 
repine under your circumstances, but always 
be cheerful and kind. In the place of busi- 
ness, in the family, among your associates, 
always be ready to lend such assistance as 
may be required, and thus win upon the af- 
fections of all. In serving others, ever bear 
it in mind, that you are also effectually bene- 
fiting yourself. When you come of age, 



32 KINDNESS. 

these acts of goodness, together with a cha- 
racter of honesty, veracity and industry, will 
not be forgotten. The employer will feel 
that he cannot spare you from his business. 
And during revulsions in trade, whilst thou- 
sands are out of employ, you will generally 
find work enough to keep you busy. And 
when you desire to start business on your 
own account, the character which has been 
established by the toil of years, will be found 
serviceable, in raising up friends to assist, 
and stand by you in the hour of greatest 
need. 

While preparing for the future scenes of 
active life, you will do well never to forget 
the interest the world has in you, and the 
important claim it has upon you. In a few 
years you will be free of those restraints 
which now confine your influence to a small 
circle. The knowledge now possessed may 
serve present purposes, but as you will soon 
have much more to do with mankind than at 
present, you should be constantly enlarging 
your knowledge of men and things. Your 
evenings therefore ought not to be spent in 
trifling amusements, but in reading history, 



KINDNESS. * 33 

attending lectures, or in some way of intel- 
lectual or moral improvement. This is youi 
best, and perhaps your only time. Improve 
it while you may, or you will certainly have 
many seasons of unavailing regret hereafter. 
Employ every leisure half hour, nor carelessly 
while away one of them. These every man 
can find in some part of the day or night, 
sufficient, if duly regarded and rightly spent, 
vastly to improve his mind, and prepare him 
for future respectability and usefulness. 



34 INTELLEtTUAL ATTAINMENTS. 



CHAPTER II. 

ON INTELLECTUAL ATTAINMENTS. 

Man possesses a twofold nature, a body 
and a mind, a physical and a thinking 
power. It requires both to constitute man. 
Both as they now exist require education, 
to be able to serve the purposes for which 
they were originally intended. The term 
education is said to be derived from e and 
duco, to lead forth, bring out and develop, 
and is, therefore, as correctly applied to the 
body as the mind. When used in relation 
to the former, it implies that process by 
which the faculties of the physical man are 
trained and wrought up to their full capaci- 
ties and capabilities. When used in relation 
to the latter, it comprehends the full deve- 
lopment of the intellectual and moral powers. 
There is no necessity of urging the import- 
ance of physical culture, as all men seem 



EDUCATION. 35 

agreed upon this. Every father is desirous 
his son should learn some branch of busi- 
ness, some art or trade, by which he will be 
able to maintain himself in respectability. 
For this purpose he is early apprenticed, 
and sent from home to serve several long 
years in acquiring the knowledge of some 
handicreft. No man could walk, talk, write 
his name, or perform any physical operation, 
seemingly the most simple and easy, had he 
not received physical education. These all 
seem to be voluntary, and easy of accom- 
plishment to us now, having long since 
taught our muscles to obey the dictates of 
the will. Had no one taken pains with us 
in childhood, and instructed us in the imita- 
tion of sound, we should this day have been 
mutes, had w T e survived so long. So, the 
student in any science has to submit to a 
long course of practice in connexion with 
theory, in order to be a proficient. The 
lady must sit for many weary hours at the 
piano before she can play well, however 
versed she may be in the theory and princi- 
ples of music. Skill in mechanics of all 
kinds furnishes illustration of the same fact. 



36 EDUCATION. 

But mental and intellectual education is 
that upon which I choose more especially to 
dwell. This may include what is ordinarily 
meant by it : the acquisition of one or all the 
languages — one or all the sciences taught in 
modern schools. But this by no means ex- 
hausts the term, as it is certainly possible to 
have all these, together with a fair prepara- 
tion for business, and yet be grossly deficient 
in good intellectual and moral education. 
The education frequently given in these days 
makes a man a fop — a silly coxcomb — or a 
pretty plaything, instead of a full-grown 
gentleman. It may give him a partial know- 
ledge of many matters, proper enough for 
him to know, but is too apt to leave him 
lamentably ignorant of w r hat most concerns 
him. We have said that the object of edu- 
cation is to bring out and develop the entire 
powers and capacities of the man. It is in- 
tended to give depth and profundity to the 
understanding — strength and tenacity to the 
memory, that what is written on it may re- 
main, to be called up for service in the 
necessities of after life. It must control the 
passions — curb and subdue animal nature, 



EDUCATION. 37 

so as to give ascendency to the rational 
powers. Man, forgetful that he is a rational 
being, intended to be controlled by reason, 
understanding and judgment, by indulging 
in full play his animal passions, becomes 
brutal in his character and habits. Right 
training, connected with suitable instruction, 
gives him a view of his own proper charac- 
ter, tells him he is a man instead of a brute, 
and, therefore, should be controlled and 
governed by manly principles and the au- 
thority of reason. 

The will and affections, those main springs 
and most potent sources of human action, 
are to be taught, trained and subdued, that 
they may serve and readily obey the dicta- 
tion of the understanding and judgment, not 
control them. The passions — w T hich, in all 
untutored men, possess a savage wildness 
and ferocity — education is intended to tame 
and socialize. That man, whatever be his 
pretensions to learning and science, who 
cannot control his passions, but suffers him- 
self to get heated and intoxicated with rage, 
at every untoward and unexpected incident, 
or trifling opposition from his fellows, is not 
4 



38 EDUCATION. 

a well-educated man. He may have learned 
to master the most difficult problems in 
mathematical science, and the science of 
government — but he has not learned to mas- 
ter himself. Be it known and ever remem- 
bered, that " he who ruleth his own spirit is 
better than he who taketh a city !" All the 
disgraceful broils and tumults among men 
in high or low life, from the lofty halls of 
Congress down through all the intermediate 
grades of society to the abhorred fights in a 
dirty grog-shop, are caused either by a de- 
ficient, or a total want of education. 

What is the education of those young 
men who are now the terror of our city? 
who engage in a street-fight almost every 
week ; using slung-shots, bricks, stones and 
clubs, on all with whom they meet, without, 
perhaps, ever having seen them before? 
Due education of the mental and moral 
powers cures all such low and brutal con- 
tentions, by drying up the passions that give 
rise to them. Could young men associating 
and taking part in such disgraceful scenes, 
see themselves as they are viewed by the 
orderly and worthy portion of the commu- 



EDUCATION. 39 

nity, I am persuaded, no law, or officer of 
the law, would be required to put an end to 
them at once. The want of domestic edu- 
cation is more apparent now than any other ; 
especially in large cities and densely popu- 
lated towns : a want not easily compensated 
or supplied by other accomplishments. Re- 
solution, however, on the part of him who 
sees and feels his lack in this respect, may 
and will, if properly directed, take him out 
of the society of the vulgar and vicious, and 
place him among gentlemen. God has put 
it in every man's power, after he comes to 
years of discretion, to rise or fall, sink or 
swim, be honored or despised. 

It is education also that furnishes a correct 
taste, (a most important matter,) chastens 
the imagination, and gives ability to think 
long and closely on any given subject. It 
commits to a man the power to confine his 
attention as he chooses, by which he can 
gain knowledge to an indefinite extent. 
Creation is before him, and intellectual edu- 
cation will serve as the box of instruments 
by which he who has it can measure its 



40 MORAL EDUCATION. 

length, breadth and depth, — he can weigh, 
dissect and analyze at pleasure. 

Moral education is the development and 
proper discipline of the moral faculties, than 
which nothing can be more important to 
men circumstanced as we are. It is the im- 
plantation of moral principles, and convey- 
ing to the mind that instruction which 
teaches us to know both the nature, and how 
to discharge the various duties which we 
owe to God and our fellows. It defines the 
difference between truth and error — virtue 
and vice — inspiring us with a love and ad- 
miration for the former, and a horror and 
hatred to the latter. By it we are taught, 
that as we are immortal, we are therefore 
accountable beings — and that all our words 
and works, thoughts and indulgences, are 
reviewed by a higher power, w T ho will call 
us to an account at a future period, for the 
manner in which we have spent our time, 
and used our talents. 

But I will cease my definitions, and attend 
to what is of far more importance to all young 
persons — namely, a description of the way 
in which the intellectual and moral powers 



DISCIPLINE OF THE MIND. 41 

may be duly developed. It is one thing to 
show what is to be done, and another to 
point out the best and most ready way of 
doing it. Both are necessary, but not equally 
so, as we are naturally more apt to know 
what is duty than to perform it when known. 
The necessity of mental acquirement must 
be apparent to every thinking man at an 
early age. All must more or less clearly see 
the distinction it invariably makes between 
men otherwise similarly circumstanced. This 
itself, one might suppose, would be a suffi- 
cient spur to urge every young man forward 
in the laborious work of intellectual acquire- 
ment — since it invariably raises those who 
submit to it to some degree of eminence and 
consequent usefulness, and the neglect of it 
never fails to be attended with merited dis- 
grace. 

I should not fail, therefore, to admonish 
you of a fact with which you are doubtless 
more or less acquainted, that the intellectual 
faculties, like the physical, generally remain 
stationary or dwindle away without exercise, 
diligent, persevering and active. There is 
no other known way in which the mind can 
4* 



42 DISCIPLINE OF THE MIND. 

gain strength, become capacious and power- 
ful. Knowledge must be gained to serve as 
capital on which to do business ; but know- 
ledge is not all for which you are to labor. 
The discipline and habits formed in the ac- 
quisition of wealth are far more useful to its 
possessor than the mere possession of the 
acquired treasure. Hence the difference ever 
to be observed between those who have pro- 
perty left them, and such as have gained it 
by the sturdy efforts of personal industry. 
You are to seek strength of mind by useful 
discipline of the faculties possessed, rather 
than any fancied amount of knowledge. In 
order to this, it is essential to have some rule 
of life — some plan of study and daily appli- 
cation. And when the plan is wisely laid, 
never suffer it to be sacrificed, though perse- 
verance in it should cost you much ; — though 
it cause you to neglect all the light works in 
creation, and the flood of pretty annuals lie 
unread on your right and left; — though it 
cut you loose from many previous associa- 
tions, hitherto held dear as your very exist- 
ence, and on which you once thought your 
happiness mainly depended. Breaking off 



DISCOURAGEMENTS. 43 

from a course of study wisely arranged to 
read every trifle that is prettily done up, is 
like leaving solid and wholesome food, to 
partake of hurtful sweetmeats, which ener- 
vate rather than strengthen. The greatest 
men sometimes read the fewest books, but 
what is read is made their own. Not com- 
mitted, it is true — for no wise man commits 
much — but analyzed — digested, and well 
understood. Like William Penn, they have 
read men as well as books ; and hence their 
readiness in grasping and comprehending 
every matter that comes before them, as by 
intuition. 



DISCOURAGEMENTS. 

Many are deterred from a faithful course 
of intellectual application, because they have 
little hope of success. They have long since 
conceded the point, that large facilities and 
abundant opportunities of wealth and leisure 
are essential to a good education. And be- 
cause they have unfortunately been born 
without these, and providence has to them 



44 WEALTH UNFAVORABLE TO GREATNESS. 

dealt out bounties with a penurious hand, 
they give up to despair, and foolishly yield 
to what seems to be their fate. A little re- 
flection will convince the thoughtful that 
their discouragements are premature and 
hasty. Time and other facilities, it is true, 
are very desirable, but far from being essen- 
tial to either usefulness or greatness. The 
history of the past — our principal guide in 
such matters — fully proves this. It has often 
been said, and the assertion is fully sustained 
by the evidence of literary biography, that 
intellectual greatness is most commonly found 
at first in obscurity and poverty. In what 
are called by the conventional habits of so- 
ciety, the higher walks of life, where opu- 
lence pampers sensuality and flatters vanity, 
it is almost impossible to attain intellectual 
eminence. And for this reason a smooth sea 
never makes a skilful sailor. Poverty and 
obscurity being dependent upon its own re- 
sources, must remain unhonored or rise by 
the might of its own energy. A quality is 
acquired in such circumstances, which ever 
lies at the foundation of true greatness, viz. 
— a sense of self-dependence. 



SUCCESSFUL APPLICATION. 45 

I believe that the history of the world will 
prove, that to be engaged in active employ- 
ment is propitious and favorable to intellec- 
tual cultivation, rather than injurious. And 
perhaps one principal reason for it is — the 
physical frame is kept in a healthy state by 
its activity, which is always favorable to 
mental action and intellectual strength. And 
it is a well known fact, that the mind accus 
tomed to meet and overcome difficulties, be- 
comes more and more daring and intrepid, 
and more willing to tax its powers to the 
last point of endurance. There is also a 
pride in human nature which delights in ex- 
celling those who are accustomed to deem 
themselves our superiors. Whatever may be 
the reasons for it — certain it is, if history 
speaks truth, that some of the greatest men 
the world has known have arisen from very 
inconspicuous situations. Epictetus the mo- 
ralist, was born a slave, yet became the pride 
of stoical philosophers, and the friend of the 
worthiest Roman emperors. Murray, who, 
though dead now, speaks and instructs in 
our schools, was a shepherd's boy. Franklin 
was once a printer's apprentice, yet he be- 



46 SUCCESSFUL APPLICATION. 

came one of the most distinguished philoso- 
phers and statesmen of his age. Sir Hum- 
phry Davy, though the son of a wood carver, 
became the first and most daring chemist of 
his time. Columbus was a sailor, and by 
his enterprise became a vast benefactor of 
the world. And our own Roger Sherman, 
whose statesmanship was so well appreciated 
during the revolution and since, was a shoe- 
maker. And time would fail, as well as the 
patience of the reader, were I to enumerate 
all who have risen from the common walks 
of life to greatness. Herschel, once a soldier 
in Nova Scotia, who has fixed his name 
among the stars, and the well known black- 
smith of New England, who, though steadily 
pursuing his business, has well nigh master- 
ed all the languages of this < babbling earth,' 
Shakspeare, Adam Clarke, and Richard Wat- 
son, whose works will continue to please and 
profit mankind as long as literature, science 
and virtue shall continue to command admi- 
ration — all worked their way to eminence 
without the advantages of wealth and leisure. 



EDMUND STONE. 47 



TOO OLD TO BEGIN. 

Discouragement with some arises from an 
additional circumstance. They conceive 
themselves too far advanced in life ever to 
hope for success, though they were now to 
make the attempt. I would commend such 
to the noble examples of Dr. Adam Clarke, 
Rev. Samuel Drew, the w T riter on the philo- 
sophy of mind, w T hose works will ever praise 
him, and Dr. Franklin, all of whom, with 
many others that might be named, are evi- 
dences of what can be done after the usual 
time of completing an academical course is 
past. Edmund Stone, also, is a case in 
point to encourage thos^ who begin study 
late. At eighteen years of age, he was in 
the employ of the Duke of Argyle, to whom 
his father was gardener. The Duke, one 
day, rinding a copy of Newton's Principia 
on the grass plat in the garden, was aston- 
ished at hearing the gardener's son claim the 
book. He immediately enquired of him, 
" Do you understand geometry and Latin 



48 NEVER TOO LATE TO IMPROVE. 

and Newton ?" " I know a little of them," 
said the young man. " But how," enquired 
the Duke, " did you gain this knowledge ?" 
Stone replied, "A servant taught me ten 
years since to read. Does any one need 
more than the twenty-four letters, in order 
to learn every thing else that one wishes?" 
After giving the Duke an account of the 
manner in which he had acquired his learn- 
ing, he ended by saying, "And this, my 
lord, is what I have done. It seems to me, 
we may learn every thing, w T hen we know 
the twenty-four letters of the alphabet." 

Knowledge is not only a source of gain, 
but a means of happiness. And if it has 
been neglected at the most suitable time of 
life, it certainly should not be urged as a 
reason for its neglect during life. If it is 
calculated to lighten the burdens of life, and 
confer a measure of comfort not attainable 
without it, surely it can never be too late to 
undertake it. 

There is a great error prevailing, which 
seems to have become a common sentiment, 
that education beyond bare reading, writing, 
and some knowledge of figures, is useful 



NEVER TOO LATE TO IMPROVE. 49 

only to professional men. That to farmers, 
merchants, and mechanics, it is altogether 
unnecessary. And as the course of life is 
most generally fixed by the time men reach 
majority, it is deemed needless to pursue any 
branch of education, except that which has 
a direct bearing upon the business we intend 
to follow. But this is reducing the value of 
knowledge to a most pitiable standard, and 
degrading that which is intended for food to 
the mind, into a mere article of trade and 
merchandise. Whereas, learning derives its 
principal importance from other and far 
loftier considerations, viz. — from its enlarg- 
ing the intellectual capacity, and the in- 
fluence it has directly or remotely upon the 
happiness of individuals and communities in 
time and eternity. If men were mere ani- 
mals, then their chief wisdom would consist 
in simply making a living. But as they 
possess 'a lofty nature, and immeasurable 
capacities, it is not good for them to be 
without knowledge. This remark is true of 
all men, in every employment, I care not 
how menial. Many a rich gem now lies 
hid beneath the vast ocean, which, if brought 
5 



50 WANT OF TIME. 

up and polished, would be of great service 
to mankind. And there can be no question 
but there are many minds buried and hid by 
circumstances, which, if properly brought 
out, would shine astonishingly, and be of 
vast service to the world. Nor has any man 
a right to say that his mind is not of that 
cast, until he has fully tried its powers and 
tested its capacities. 



WANT OF TIME. 

But with some, still another difficulty is 
urged as a bar to compliance with what is 
here recommended. The pursuit of know- 
ledge requires time, and it is deemed impos- 
sible for the mechanic, who toils ten hours or 
more in the day, to devote much space to 
the purposes of mental cultivation. With 
such as have been blessed with leisure, and 
have been students by profession all their 
days, this difficulty might be deemed insur- 
mountable. But it is far otherwise with me. 
Manual labor and constant employment, I 



ECONOMY OF TIME. 51 

believe, is favorable to intellectual cultiva- 
tion, instead of being an injury. It teaches 
to value time, and not while it away as a 
thing of nought. The student of rare leisure 
spends much time in learning that which is 
wholly useless, not to say injurious. The 
business man is in no danger of thus misap- 
plying his powers or wasting precious time. 
But what is more, the man who has been in- 
structed in an art, or had the powers of his 
mind called out and developed by exercise 
in business, is thus fitted with quickness of 
apprehension and a sagacious shrewdness, 
which mightily aid in the acquisition of all 
other knowledge. If you wish to find quick- 
ness of w r it and readiness of repartee, you 
must go among the industrious and working 
classes. This activity of mind doubtless 
arises more or less from habits of physical 
activity, and the healthy flow of blood and 
spirits, which such activity never fails to 
promote. 

Another circumstance favorable to the ac- 
quisition of useful knowledge among the 
working classes is — they have learned a 
secret w T hich the more affluent have never 



52 ECONOMY OF TIME. 

been taught — the economy of time. The 
man accustomed to labor or active business, 
rises at an early hour, takes no nap at noon, 
and toils on until his day's work is finished. 
Every day is worth a certain sum to him, 
and he as much thinks of throwing aw T ay his 
money as his time. With these habits, let 
him direct his attention to his book, and he 
is sure of success. If he therefore wisely 
divide his time and live by rule, there is no 
ground for fear in his case. And who has 
not some leisure hours on hand every day ? 
Whose time is so accurately divided between 
toil and sleep, as to allow no intermediate 
space for mental improvement ? I will ven- 
ture to say not one such can be found. All 
that is generally needed is a disposition to 
find time for such purposes, and it is at 
hand. There are spare hours in every man's 
life — one or more during each day, which, 
if multiplied by the days of the year, w r ould 
amount to many weeks and months. All 
that is necessary is to improve these with 
care, and no man need be a novice in the 
knowledge of science, history, or theology. 
He who cannot command days, must be 



ECONOMY OF TIME. 53 

content with hours, and in default of these, 
he must prize minutes. A few only in the 
morning, at noon, and in the evening, duly 
improved in reading, will, in a year, take 
you through a voluminous history. And a 
few years thus having passed, will have 
placed the industrious student a planetary 
distance above the careless and idle. 

I once knew a case where a number of 
mechanics working in the same shop, thirst- 
ing for knowledge as well as money, found 
time to pass through several large volumes 
each month. Their plan was this. At a 
certain hour of the day, one of their number 
read a certain chapter, or number of pages, 
whilst the others all silently progressed with 
their work. He then gave the book to an- 
other, resuming his own work, and all again 
listened to the reader. So the book passed 
around to each one in the company, (some 
eight or ten in number,) until all had read 
their portion. The book w*as then laid aside 
until the following day, when the same thing 
occurred again as before. By their reading 
ten pages each, one hundred was read per 
day. How long would it take such a com- 



54 NO TIME TO READ. 

pany to pass through the history of every 
nation that has ever had an existence? This 
course, persevered in for a length of time, 
would exhaust a large library. Yet no one 
ever complained of the loss of time. All 
felt it to be a pleasure which they could illy 
dispense with. And who does not see the 
effect of such a course upon their intellectual 
powers ? While others were toiling on, in 
the duties of their profession, ignorant of 
everything but what barely appertained to 
their own handicraft, these were conversing 
with men of former times, and obtaining a 
general knowledge of the world. " Go and 
do likewise," all you who complain of w r ant 
of time for mental improvement. 

Do any still urge the fact, that they have 
not time to read ? They may verily believe 
it ; but if they were to argue until they were 
grey-headed, they w T ould not convert me to 
their notions. It would not be difficult to 
portray such so clearly, that they would be 
everywhere known. They generally have 
time to attend all public gatherings in times 
of political excitement, public sales, camp- 
meetings and singing-schools, but they have 



WANT OF TASTE. 55 

no time to read. They can frequently find 
time to spend whole days at the tippling- 
shop, seeing the races, or conversing about 
political affairs, but they have no time to 
read. Such persons have time to hunt, to 
fish, to learn music and play, or do nothing, 
but they have no time to read. 

Unhappy men, they are generally good for 
nothing — neither of use to the nation, to 
their families, nor themselves. Their farms 
are out of order, shops dirty and uninviting, 
and their firesides are uncomfortable. With- 
out energy, public spirit, or love of know- 
ledge, they live in obscurity, and die un- 
wept and unregretted. I need not show 
how little befitting an immortal man is such 
a course : it is too apparent to require a 
remark. 



WANT OF TASTE. 

But you answer all this by urging another 
formidable difficulty. A difficulty which we 
admit to be a most serious one ; you say 
" you have no taste for study," and the 



56 NOTHING GAINED 

hours thus spent, of all others, are the most 
unpleasant and irksome. Here is the prin- 
cipal difficulty, after all. No man will long 
practise that for which he has no liking. 
Hard work, in the nature of things, is not 
easy ; and he who is more fond of company, 
a public meeting, or sitting in a dirty bar- 
room, smoking a cigar, and hearing the idle 
gossip of the neighborhood, than perusing a 
valuable book, w r ill most likely soon sink to 
his level, whatever be his talents, and remain 
there during life. 

But men's tastes arise from habit, and, 
though not with equal ease, may be re- 
formed as well as formed. In order to emi- 
nence in any business or profession, the first 
thing to be acquired, is a taste for it. And 
it is astonishing how soon such taste may be 
imbibed, by a little practice. Let a young 
man accustom himself to any course of life 
for a month or two, and though ever so dis- 
graceful to his character, and offensive in 
the eyes of others, to himself it will be plea- 
sant and inviting. In like manner, let him 
compel his attention to books, during his 
leisure hours and evenings, for a season, and 



WITHOUT LABOR. 57 

soon, what was an irksome and unpleasant 
task, will be his greatest pleasure. No 
longer will he have to complain of want of 
taste for literary pursuits, but he will perhaps 
find some need of care, lest a fondness for 
it lead him to suffer too great encroachment 
upon the hours of business. This bar, there- 
fore, although a real one, is quite easily taken 
out of the way. And is not the object wor- 
thy the effort necessary to its attainment? 
Nothing of any value is gained without toil. 
Nor will a studious disposition, essential to 
mental cultivation, be possessed by any, 
unless it be diligently acquired. 

Sir Walter Scott thus writes to his son : 
" I cannot too strongly impress upon your 
mind, that labor is the condition which God 
has imposed on us in every station of life. 
There is nothing worth having, that can be 
had without it, from the bread which the 
peasant wins by the sweat of his brow, to 
the sports by which the rich man must get 
rid of his ennui. The only difference be- 
twixt them is, that the poor man labors to 
get a dinner to his appetite — the rich man 
to get an appetite to his dinner. As for 



58 TASTE FOR STUDY. 

knowledge, it can no more be planted in the 
human mind without labor, than a field of 
wheat can be produced without the previous 
use of the plough. There is indeed this dif- 
ference, that chance or circumstances may 
cause it, that another shall reap what the 
farmer sows ; but no man can be deprived, 
whether by accident or misfortune, of the 
fruits of his own studies ; and the liberal and 
extended acquisition of knowledge which he 
makes, are all for his own use. Labor, 
therefore, my dear boy, and improve the 
time. In youth, our steps are light and our 
minds are ductile, and knowledge is easily 
laid up. But if we neglect our spring, our 
summer will be useless and contemptible, 
our harvest will be chaff, and the winter of 
old age unrespected and desolate." 

Again, " Read, my dear Charles, read, 
and read that which is useful. Man differs 
from birds and beasts, only because he has 
the means of availing himself of the know- 
ledge acquired by his predecessors. The 
swallow builds the same nest which its father 
and mother built, and the sparrow does not 
improve by the experience of its parents. 



TASTE FOR STUDY. 59 

The son of the learned pig, if it had one, 
would be a mere brute, only fit to make 
bacon of. It is not so with the human race. 
Our ancestors lodged in caves and wigwams, 
where we construct palaces for the rich, and 
comfortable dwellings for the poor ; and why- 
is this, but because our eye is enabled to 
look upon the past, to improve upon our an- 
cestors' improvements, and to avoid their 
errors? This can only be done by study- 
ing history, and comparing it with passing 
events." 

There is a natural indolence common to 
our nature, which, fond of listless inaction, 
will ever be urging us to lay aside what is 
painful and laborious, and seek that which 
is amusing. This must be overcome before 
any man will be a student. Having this out 
of our way, the work will be comparatively 
easy, study will be a pleasure, and a thirst 
for knowledge being the master passion, 
there will be no difficulty in the way, or self- 
denial required. He who has cultivated this 
taste and succeeded in acquiring this valua- 
ble habit, is on the high road to usefulness 
and respectability, if not to greatness ; but 



60 DEFICIENT IN MEMORY. 

he, on the contrary, who has it not and does 
not acquire it, will have a narrow path to 
travel through life, and will leave an inglo- 
rious memorial. Upon his tombstone it may- 
be written that he was born on one day, and 
died upon another, an honor which the lower 
animals can share with him. A man with 
fair natural endowments can generally make 
himself what he chooses to be. Many com- 
plain of Providence and fortune for having 
dealt out favors with a parsimonious and 
sparing hand, when the fault is their own. 
Had they been as diligent and active in the 
pursuit of knowledge as they have of distinc- 
tion in feats of agility or foolish sports during 
early life, they would have had but little to 
complain of now. 



DEFICIENT IN MEMORY. 

Not a few complain also of a very treach- 
erous memory, and therefore deem it useless 
for them ever to make an effort to gain know- 
ledge. This is the old complaint reiterated, 
that Providence has denied some what he 



BAD MEMORY. 61 

has so abundantly bestowed upon others, a 
postulate which I have always admitted with 
great caution. There is no question but 
variety, as relates to natural endowments, 
obtains among mankind. This conclusion 
cannot well be avoided. Yet it is equally 
clear that in most cases the difference ob- 
served can be traced to other causes, arising 
in the habits of life and modes of early train- 
ing. The experience of every teacher has no 
doubt convinced him that the lad who had 
never been accustomed to con a lesson, finds 
it difficult at his first essay to fix one upon 
his memory. This difficulty remains for 
some time, until other and previously formed 
habits are worn off, and his mind becomes 
thoroughly bent to his new employment. 
His memory becomes more and more tena- 
cious as he progresses ; the more it is taxed, 
the more are its energies developed, until its 
grasp becomes powerful and astonishing, and 
he who at first was quite incapable of retain- 
ing the shortest primary lessons, now stores 
away in his capacious memory whole sec- 
tions, pages, and volumes. So that it is evi- 
dent that previous habits, not nature, caused 
6 



62 BAD MEMORY. 

the difference between him and his fellow at 
first. He w T ho reads or studies but little, 
generally has a bad memory — so called; 
whilst he who calls its powers into use and 
constant exercise, is always said to have a 
good one. Confine the arm to a vertical 
position, and keep it so for six mdnths or a 
year ; then remove the bandage, and try to 
raise it horizontally. You will find it impos- 
sible at first ; but, after a time, when it has 
had sufficient exercise to restore strength, it 
will act in obedience to the will. 

The same may be said of every power we 
possess. And will any one do such injustice 
to himself as to quietly presume that he has 
not so good natural faculties as others, until 
he essays their development ? Pride of cha- 
racter should forbid it. No man knows what 
he can do until he fairly tries; nor should 
any one condemn himself to a life of stupid 
ignorance, pleading want of capacity, with- 
out having fully made the effort to avoid so 
great a disgrace. 

Art may also be used to strengthen recol- 
lection, and make memory tenacious. Not 
choosing to dwell on any system that may 



LOCATE TRANSACTIONS. 63 

have been devised in order to aid this faculty 
or attribute of mind, allow me barely to sug- 
gest a plan which I know has been service- 
able to some. Local connexions and cir- 
cumstances always aid in recollecting facts. 
When you desire to remember a name, you 
connect it with something which easily and 
frequently recurs to the mind ; and when the 
latter comes up by accident or design, the 
former generally accompanies it, without the 
least effort. Acting on this principle, he who 
studies history should frequently have a map 
before him, and by giving the historical trans- 
action a location, all that will be required to 
call up the event will be to let the mind 
revert to the spot where it occurred. The 
student will thus have the double advantage 
of the study of history and geography at one 
and the same time. One hour's study of 
history on this plan will be found to realize 
more permanent advantage than whole days 
of bare reading. In fact, the reading of an- 
cient history without it will be found almost 
useless, as it will soon be forgotten, or facts 
so thrown together and condensed as to be 
of no service whatever. And what is more, 



64 STRENGTHENING MEMORY. 

historical reading having the light of geogra- 
phy thrown around it, becomes doubly in- 
teresting. It not only spreads before the 
mind the deeds of former generations, which 
it is vastly important for all men to know, 
but also furnishes a view of their varied 
localities, and the influences which gave rise 
to their actions. This, by the way, is one 
of the best modes of studying the philosophy 
of mankind. 

The same principle should also be ob- 
served in the study of the Holy Scriptures. 
National character, place, circumstances of 
the times, and purpose of the writer, well 
understood, will serve to cast much light 
upon almost every portion of Scripture, and 
vastly strengthen our power to recollect it. 
If we desire to remember any particular pas- 
sage, its location on the page should be 
marked, whether near the top or bottom, in 
which of the columns, and what is the first 
word. This will be giving it a location, 
which, recurring to the mind at first, will 
soon introduce all that follows. What has 
been said of history and Scripture may be 
said with equal propriety of every other 



WANT OF MEANS. 65 

matter of study. He who would have a 
strong memory must act upon the same prin- 
ciple with him who seeks a strong and healthy 
physical frame, viz : give it exercise. He 
must call its powers into use, and tax them 
to their full ability of bearing, using all the 
artificial helps with which he is acquainted. 
This done for a series of years, or even 
months, will so develop this power, that but 
few complaints will be heard of the parsi- 
mony of nature's bestowments. I believe 
the worst memories, (so called,) are always 
found with those who read and study the 
least. So fully am I persuaded of this, that 
whenever I hear complaint of a deficient 
memory, the immediate presumption with 
me is, that he who makes it is either no stu- 
dent at all, or else a grossly careless one. 



WANT OF MEANS. 

To the above difficulties have been some- 
times added, a want of access to the means 
of information. This difficulty was once 
6* 



66 WANT OF MEANS. 

far from being an ideal one. Books were 
few and costly, and the sciences were locked 
up in an unknown language, or so loaded 
with technicalities as to put them beyond the 
reach of the labouring classes ; who gene- 
rally have to work their own way without 
teachers. But happily this bar is now taken 
out of the way. The world is flooded with 
books on all subjects interesting to men ; 
books in our own language, and rendered 
accessible by their cheapness, or placed in 
public libraries, for the benefit of all classes. 
I need not dwell upon this difficulty. It is 
so frail as to be seen to be nothing but an 
excuse for idleness. The country is full of 
books — and so cheap as to come within the 
reach of all. The money spent on the va- 
rious holidays in the year, if expended in 
books, would soon furnish every apprentice 
with a tolerable library. And lectures are 
given during the long evenings of every 
year, on almost every subject within the 
range of human science. Some are gratui- 
tous, and all are cheap. He, therefore, who 
pleads want of means for intellectual im- 
provement in these days, may be given up 



NECESSITY OF KNOWLEDGE. 67 

as a hopeless case, on whom an argument 
would be wasted. Ignorance was once a 
misfortune, but it is now a crime. I speak 
generally, of course, and that there are ex- 
ceptions, by no means militates against the 
force of the remark. The enterprising will 
hear me. We live in a stirring, active age 
of the world. All nations are thrown toge- 
ther as into one community, requiring every 
man to know more, in order to success in 
business now, than at a prior period. The 
man who once did business in a small vil- 
lage, though he has never removed, now 
finds himself in a city, surrounded by a 
dense and stirring population; his plans of 
operation must change, to meet the change 
in his circumstances, or he will find the 
younger portion of the community taking 
the trade all out of his hands. The readi- 
ness of communication between distant loca- 
tions, causing sudden fluctuations in the 
price of commodities, requires that a mer- 
chant or mechanic should know much more 
now, as to the philosophy of trade, than was 
needed formerly. Want of the knowledge 
of this fact has led to many a disaster in 



68 INDUCEMENTS. 

business, which a little foresight would have 
prevented. But let the eye turn to another 
quarter. 



INDUCEMENTS. 

In a government like ours, where the 
power is in the hands of the people, nothing 
is more dangerous to liberty than popular 
ignorance. You will sometimes be called to 
decide important questions, involving not only 
the wealth and happiness, but the very exist- 
ence of the government under which you live. 
One vote may east the die, for weal or wo, 
and be the means of entailing on yourselves 
and your children a joyful blessing or a 
withering curse. Every man, therefore, 
should be conversant with his country's his- 
tory, his country's laws, and his country's con- 
stitution, who has the fearful privilege of de- 
ciding her fate. Ah ! how few of those who 
go to cast in their votes, think of the fearful 
responsibility resting on them, or the dreadful 
consequences that may follow. Perhaps it 



INDUCEMENTS. 69 

would not be going beyond the truth, if it 
were asserted, that more than half of those 
now attached to the political parties which 
divide our nation, cannot give a reason for 
their preferences. Some are partizans be- 
cause of prejudices formed against certain 
men ; others, from the attachment of friend- 
ship ; whilst thousands are hoodwinked and 
nose-led by the designing and interested. 
Every man should be able to give a reason 
for his political hopes and fears, as well as 
his religious notions. But the ignorant, 
who never read or think, cannot do this. It 
is a moral impossibility. It certainly, there- 
fore, cannot require an argument to show 
that our institutions cannot be safe in such 
hands. Many, who are well aware of these 
facts, and seeing the danger of our institu- 
tions, pause and inquire what can be done ? 
There is but one reply, viz* : educate the 
rising generation in what they ought to 
know. Let them be trained up to reading, 
reflection, and morality. This done, and 
there need be no fear for our country. 

To this inducement, may be added the 
great satisfaction to be derived from industry 



70 THE PLEASURE OF STUDY. 

in literary pursuits. In as far as the mind, 
being immortal, is superior to the body, so 
far are mental enjoyments superior to those 
which are merely sensual. The one is low 
and grovelling, the other high and inspiring. 
The one frequently leads to shame and 
covers the face with blushes, the other is al- 
ways honorable and without fear of reproach. 
Is there no pleasure in reading history, and 
thus conversing with former generations? 
Does not the study of nature thrill the soul 
with unspeakable delight, as her chambers 
open their ample wonders to our inquiring 
eyes? Study opens a vast field, over which 
reflection and fancy can roam and luxuriate 
without fear of satiety. All sensual pleasures 
weary and cloy the appetite, but those which 
spring from intellectual cultivation never 
cease to delight. It is said that Dr. Franklin 
once remarked, that " he knew not a more 
unhappy man than the one who could not 
read, and had nothing to do on a rainy day." 
This remark is characteristic of the man who 
is said to have made it, but is as true to life 
as it is eccentric. In fact, I am at a loss to 
know how a man in such circumstances 



KNOWLEDGE OF NATURE. 71 

could enjoy himself at all, unless, like many- 
other careless animals, he spent the time in 
slumber, or like the Chinese, in eating opium. 
It has been said that the Bible makes all 
nature vocal, when it would otherwise be 
silent, and its various laws either not known 
at all, or be wholly misunderstood. A similar 
remark may be made in relation to the action 
of science on the material world. Every- 
thing is unquestionably created w T ith a wise 
design, and intended to serve some useful 
purpose. But the ignorant can never find 
out their uses and various adaptations. The 
only effect lightning and thunder has upon 
the unlettered savage, is fright and dismay. 
But how very differently these agents of na- 
ture act upon the better instructed ! They 
are received with gratitude, as means of pu- 
rifying the atmosphere, and therefore con- 
ducing to the health and happiness of man- 
kind. The ignorant man looks over the face 
of nature, studded with forests and garnished 
with flowers, with a vacant and unmeaning 
stare. He sees no beauty, and feels no 
thrilling inspiration, because to him it is per- 
fectly incomprehensible. But the man of 



72 YIELDS DELIGHT. 

science stands a charmed spectator of na- 
ture's beauty and profusion, as he more or 
less sees the design and uses of what is be- 
fore him. All classes would be much more 
happy in their various employments, were 
they to mingle more science with labor, as 
they would better understand their own busi- 
ness, and therefore have less fear of failures 
and unforeseen calamities. 

Knowledge, moreover, gives influence in all 
states of society. And popularity, whether 
really advantageous or not, with all men is 
more or less desirable. All are climbing to 
it by some one of the various ways in which 
it is deemed accessible. This seems to be 
perfectly natural, nor is it to be altogether 
condemned. There is a real satisfaction to 
be found in the exertion of influence over 
our fellows, in being treated with respect, 
and looked up to for counsel. Such a posi- 
tion is most commanding, and may be turned 
to good advantage. That young man who 
can see in such a situation nothing that is 
desirable, who, finding himself ignorant and 
without influence, is willing there to remain, 
not making the least effort to gain a worthy 



GIVES INFLUENCE. 73 

standing, is already lost to society. He has 
no ambition ; and no prospect is before 
him, but that of being a hewer of wood, and 
drawer of water to the more enterprising, all 
the days of his life. 

But there is another motive yet, which, 
perhaps, may be more influential than any 
of the former. Every man is desirous of 
possessing mental energy and intellectual 
strength. We may safely inform him, that 
it is not likely he will ever possess this with- 
out much reading and close thinking. His 
mind may be naturally good, but it needs 
something to give it a start, and furnish 
capital on which to act. There must be 
something to excite. What shall it be? 
Experiment the matter by taking up a book, 
and reading the speech of some great man 
on some question of thrilling interest. 1 5 11 
vouch for it, that you will not half finish it 
before your mind will be in the highest state 
of excitement. And were you then to take 
a pen and attempt composition, ideas would 
be in readiness, and words would flow in an 
overwhelming torrent. Let it be your habit 
to occupy every spare moment in perusing 
7 



74 READING. 

some useful work, and this activity of mind 
will also become habitual, nor will it ever 
forsake you whilst it has anything to act 
upon. Mind acts upon mind, as matter upon 
matter. Nor is it possible to converse by 
books with the mighty intellects of a former, 
or even the present generation, without catch- 
ing the spirit of their inspiration. Reading 
their works provokes to emulation, and 
makes us desire to be like them. Read 
until you get the spirit of reading — until a 
taste is contracted, the gratification of which 
will be more pleasurable than eating when 
you are hungry, or drinking when you are 
dry. Thus will the mind be brought into 
appropriate and healthy activity upon all 
subjects, which challenge the exercise of its 
powers, until it becomes accustomed to 
the loftiest efforts of which its energies are 
capable. 

I am sorry for him who feels no pleasure 
in reading. He dwells in a region of gloom 
and misanthropy ; and if he is resolved not 
to use the means which invariably exalt the 
spirits to a healthy and pleasurable flow, I 
hope he may be suffered to remain alone, 



READING. 75 

not being able to find one to covet his mise- 
rable and inglorious situation. What you 
read, be careful to read well and thoroughly ; 
anything worth reading at all, is worth read- 
ing well. Make every book through which 
you pass fully your own. Get the run of 
the whole story, so as to be able to rehearse 
it to a friend in your own language. The 
more you talk of what you read, the better 
you will recollect it. By persevering in 
this course for a season, your mind will be- 
come rich as a store-house, and capacious 
enough to be continually receiving more. 

It may be proper, however, in this con- 
nexion, to caution you as to the books you 
read. I am not about to propose a plan of 
study — the intended size of this work will 
not allow me to do so. Nor do I now speak 
of the moral character of books. It is de- 
sirable to form a good style, that you may 
speak and write with ease and grace. This 
no one will, or can do, unless the works 
which he reads are written thus. Streams 
always taste of the minerals through which 
they pass — and man's character generally 
becomes assimilated to that of his every-day 



76 READING FORMS STYLE. 

companions. So is our style formed by the 
models which are most constantly before us. 
Read the works of Mr. Wesley, Mr. Web- 
ster, Drs. Doddridge and Dwight, with a 
host of other authors on religious matters, 
until attachments are formed for the men, 
and their modes of thinking and communi- 
cation, and you will write and speak in a 
similar way. It would be the same, were 
you to read any other author. 

How important, then, that you should read 
much to form a style, and that the works 
read should be clear and perspicuous! Our 
tastes undergo a great change, after we are 
twenty-five years of age. Anterior to that, 
we are usually fond of what is glowing and 
gaudy in style, whether the sentiment is 
strongly developed or not. But every sub- 
sequent year changes the taste, and sense is 
more admired than sound. No book is 
worth reading, unless the meaning stares 
you in the face. To be clear in conversa- 
tion, in thinking, and in writing, is what a 
young man should aim at first. If he be 
a student, ornament will come quite soon 
enough. Todd's Students' Manual is a 



EARLY RISING. 77 

capital thing for every young man, and I 
here commend it to their attention. No 
sentence that I have seen in it requires to be 
studied to be understood. You should be 
careful, then, to guard against a bad and 
confused style, by reading such books only 
as are clear and chaste. 

Early rising is essential to successful study. 
No man will love his book much, unless he 
form the habit of being at it early in the 
morning. The practice of some is to do all 
their reading at night, after working hours. 
Mistaken men ! Such an illy judged course 
will be short-lived. The eyes, the head, the 
whole frame will soon feel the sad effects of 
such unphilosophical procedure. Headache 
and want of appetite for food, will be the 
first natural intimations of error ; and the 
unwise youth will soon begin to think his 
studies are injuring his health, and lay them 
aside altogether. If this do not occur, he 
will complain of deficient memory — as it is 
w r e]l known that the mind is more vigorous 
and capable of retention in the early than in 
the latter portions of the day. All great ac- 
quisitions of knowledge or fortune have been 



78 READING AND CONVERSATION. 

made by men who were accustomed to early 
rising; nor need any youth dream of either, 
who cannot deny himself an hour of morning 
slumber to gain them. 

Be sure to be a good reader, whatever else 
you lack. In that which we are most fre- 
quently called on to do we should be greatest 
proficients. Make reading a daily study, so 
that if you should be required to read a 
paragraph from a book or newspaper in 
company, or if elected secretary of a so- 
ciety, your good reading may bring you 
into favorable notice. In some companies 
your whole education will be judged of by 
your capabilities in this one matter. Study 
pronunciation also. Men are always deemed 
more or less ignorant whilst they pronounce 
badly. Watch the best speakers, both public 
and private, and have a dictionary always at 
hand ; and by a little effort, care, and watch- 
fulness, you will not be afraid to open your 
mouth anywhere. Attend to the art of writing 
also. Education is not unfrequently judged 
of by ability in this accomplishment. To 
write well, with correct orthography, is a 
sure method of gaining the esteem and friend- 



POLITE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 79 

ship of a correspondent. These are, there- 
fore, to be sought with diligence. 

It is astonishing how much these common 
matters are neglected. The rage now-a-days 
is, to store the mind with Latin and Greek, 
and scraps of other branches of learning, 
which sound large and appear showy, to- the 
neglect of other knowledge of far more prac- 
tical importance in everyday transactions. 
All these can be attended to, if time and 
circumstances will permit. But these last 
can be dispensed w T ith where those above- 
named cannot. A thorough acquaintance 
With our own language is to be sought first, 
with ability to read and speak it correctly 
and fluently ; you should also write and com- 
pose with readiness and ease. No man is 
naturally a ready and good writer. Practice 
alone will enable any man to sit down and 
throw his thoughts together with force and 
beauty on paper. This is true of all men, 
talented or not. First efforts will always be 
imperfect and unsatisfactory — but regard it 
not ; resolute perseverance in the practice 
will ensure success. You often wonder how 
editors can throw their thoughts together so 



80 POLITE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 

amusingly, and wish you could do the same. 
The reason is they are always at it. Write 
much, and you will learn the secret. A good 
practice is, to write every day a few lines, 
with either pen or pencil. 

In a word, whatever you admire in an- 
other, try to acquire yourself, and always 
avoid what is objectionable and unlovely. 
Read correctly, write fluently, be ready at 
figures and accounts, easy and gentlemanly 
in conversation, and without bad habits in 
ordinary matters, and you will pass through 
the world with a better character for learning 
than many who are loaded with the honors 
of colleges. All this you can do yourself, if 
you are determined to try. It w T ill repay you 
a hundred fold for every hour spent in care- 
ful acquisition. Resolve that no one shall 
excel you, and you are safe. 

I have enumerated a few of the most po- 
pular discouragements, and tried to encou- 
rage you to encounter and overcome them. 
What others have done before you, may be 
done again. I pray you not to conclude any 
laudable and promising work impossible until 
you have given it a faithful and continuous 



POLITE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 81 

trial. Others have commenced under cir 
cumstances a thousand times more disheart 
ening and forbidding, and have triumphantly 
succeeded. Dishonor not yourself in your 
own eyes, or those of your friends, by say- 
ing in whining childishness, I can't, until the 
whole vigor of your will and manhood has 
been taxed in the effort. If imbecility must 
be confessed, let it be done with reluctance. 



82 THE IMPORTANCE OF CHARACTER. 



CHAPTER III. 

ON THE IMPORTANCE OF CHARACTER. 

From what has been already said, it is 
hoped you will be prompted to activity in 
using the means which lead to a due deve- 
lopment of the intellectual powers. This is 
education of a manly kind, neglected by none 
without great and manifest loss. Yet this, 
properly attended to, will not fit us fully for 
life. To it must be added character, or pre- 
vious studies will be almost useless. I need 
not describe it; you know and admire it 
wherever seen. It is found among the poor 
as well as wealthy ; the unlearned as well as 
masters of science. Without a good charac- 
ter you will not, you cannot succeed in life, 
whatever your other qualifications are. De- 
ficiency in science will be witnessed and 
pitied by your learned friends ; but the ab- 
sence of character will be seen by all, and 



THE MAN WITHOUT A SHADOW. 83 

visited by merited contempt. You may pass 
into good society without much education, 
but without character never. Where un- 
known, you may succeed in making a few 
acquaintances among the respectable ; but 
as your deficiencies come to light, they will 
forsake you. Who has not heard of the man 
without a shadow, and his various efforts to 
conceal his unnatural defects? Finding it 
difficult to remain where he was known, he 
fled into other lands, where he supposed 
strangers, beguiled by his imposing exterior, 
would bid him welcome to good society. 
But the effort was as useless as it was foolish ; 
for he dare not walk in company, either by 
sun or moonlight, lest his character should 
be known, and his monstrous deficiency be- 
come so visible as to scare away his com- 
panions. The only safe plan, therefore, left 
him, and which he hastily adopted, was only 
to go out in the dark; an expedient, no 
doubt, frequently adopted by many young 
men in large cities, who have wandered from 
the way of understanding. In his case, how- 
ever, the effort was a failure, as during his 
walk with an innocent and unsuspecting 



84 SELF-RESPECT. 

lady, the clouds broke away, and the moon- 
beams came peering through the opening, 
and revealed to the fair one that she was 
walking with < a man without a shadow.' 
Startled with alarm, without allowing time 
for expostulation, she fled ; and the poor 
fellow was left to meditate alone. 

The allegory needs no explanation, its in- 
tention is too manifest to be mistaken. It 
has been introduced not barely to amuse, 
but to show that all attempts to flee from 
ourselves are vain and fruitless. No man, 
even among strangers, can sustain a forced 
character long. When he least suspects it, 
his true character will appear to his friends, 
and he will find himself forsaken and alone. 
He may blaze and shine for a while, but will 
go out in obscurity. 

He w r ho would be respected must first re- 
spect himself. It is unreasonable to suppose 
others will entertain a high regard for him 
who has none for himself. Self-respect then 
is one of the first ingredients in worthy cha- 
racter. This, however, must not be mis- 
taken for foolish pride, often so ruinous to 
the young. Pride is always offensive to God 



SELF-RESPECT. 85 

and all good men. It cannot well be other- 
wise. But self-respect is founded in the 
nature and common equality of men. God 
has created all men equal, and all should 
respect themselves because they are men. 
We hold an important relation to God and 
our fellows — to this world and the next. 
What immense power man has or may have ! 
If you do not respect yourselves for what 
you are now, reflect on what you may be. 
Each man has a mind which may be almost 
infinitely expanded — has a power of doing 
good, if the energies possessed be rightly 
directed, only to be measured by Him who 
conferred it. 

Without self-respect, these powers will 
never be cultivated — never developed or 
applied to any useful purpose. The man 
who does not esteem himself, will never re- 
ceive it from others. You cannot respect 
him whom you know to be careless of him- 
self. What we seek in others, we should 
not be without. You may laugh at the man 
who amuses you w T ith boyish tricks, or fool- 
ish feats of skill in that w 7 hich can be of no 
possible use to him or others, but in your 
8 



86 SELF-RESPECT. 

heart you despise him. You already read 
his future history, and foresee the disgraceful 
termination of his career. Self-respect will 
make you wary as to company, select in 
your associations, and careful in the forma- 
tion of habits. 

There is also a dignity in manners which 
is an essential element of character. Some 
men galvanize their muscles into a grin, and 
affect to laugh at every thing. The object 
of this is to please, but the effect is wholly 
of a different character. It invariably makes 
a man look childish in the eyes of all wise 
persons. This by all means should be 
avoided. Cheerfulness is always indispen- 
sable, and never fails to adorn the best soci- 
ety, but loud laughing and continual trifling 
destroys all dignity. The clown of a public 
show may attract much attention and receive 
the highest applause, but he is heartily de- 
spised after all. Sober dignity, good sense, 
and ease of manners in company, are ever 
to be regarded as essential to enduring repu- 
tation. 

Personal appearance, though of less con- 
sequence than other accomplishments, is not 



SELF-RESPECT. 87 

to be wholly disregarded. You always feel 
more regard for a stranger well clad and 
neat in his apparel, than for one whose ap- 
pearance is disgusting. A dog will not 
snap at him half so readily. While you 
should guard against being a man of fashion, 
all men will condemn you for being a sloven. 
Cleanliness and neatness is becoming in all, 
but more especially in the young. Always 
appear the gentleman in dress and in dignity 
of deportment. Show that you live well at 
home, nor disgrace your mother and sisters. 
By such a course, all men will be compelled 
to respect you, whatever is your situation in 
life. Respect from others is not to be 
lightly esteemed. Desire for this is a sure 
index of future character and standing. Po- 
liteness should never be dispensed with, 
even among every-day companions, as the 
indulgence of improper habits soon makes 
them permanent. 

This, however, w 7 ill not cause you to 
struggle for another and higher rank. Nor 
will it induce you to seek release from labor. 
No man is or ought to be more respected 
than the one who daily toils for his bread. 



88 SELF-RESPECT. 

The social scale in this day may be some- 
what out of order, but it will come right 
hereafter. The industrious classes are the 
only ones who can set it right. Gentlemen, 
so called, can never. A man may be a true 
nobleman any where — in any office or em- 
ployment. If laboring men are not re- 
spected, it is because they do not respect 
themselves. It is the large soul that forms 
the great man, in whatever station found. 
A man by accident may attain an elevation, 
but if it be unnatural to him, he must of 
necessity come down. But he who, by re- 
specting himself and the exertion of his 
energies — by exercise of his higher powers 
becomes elevated, there he remains, as in a 
natural element. No change of business, 
of outward fortune or political promotion, 
can do this for him — it is his own work, 
aided by the blessing of God. Self-respect 
will teach you not to stoop, or veer from a 
right course to court the applause of the 
vulgar. Your course should be one and 
unchangeable. If the good and virtuous 
respect you, regard not the clamour of the 
foolish. 



RESPECT FOR OTHERS. 89 

But self-respect never made a man haughty 
and scornful. Respect for others is one of 
its important elements. It has ever been 
true, "that with what measure ye mete, it 
shall be measured to you again." The same 
reason which shows the importance of self- 
respect, argues the necessity of rendering it 
to others. The true dignity of every man 
is in the fact that he is a man. Not because 
he is rich, or well dressed, or is heir to a 
throne. The query is — is he a man belong- 
ing to our species — has he a mind that must 
live for ever ? Does he act w T ell his part in 
the station in which Providence has placed 
him? if so, we are bound to respect him. 
Even the wretched, made so by their own 
wilful misdeeds, may be pitied, but never 
should be despised. I never laugh at a 
staggering drunkard, though I often weep 
for him, because I feel that he is a man, 
though in ruins ; one for whom Christ died, 
and for whose benefit the vast creation, sun, 
moon and stars, clouds and seasons, w T ere 
ordained. Can I therefore despise him? 
The fear I have for Him who created him, 
and my own feelings, will not allow it. In 
8* 



90 MORALITY AND RELIGION. 

respecting him, I cherish and fan the flame 
of self-respect. 

Morality and Religion are essential to 
good character. I put these terms together, 
for the reason that they are united by God 
and nature. I believe it impossible to sepa- 
rate them without destroying both. There 
may be a sort of morality without the sanc- 
tions of religion, but it illy deserves the 
name. It may be heathen, but certainly 
cannot be Christian morality. The morality 
of Socrates and Plato was not that of St. 
Paul. Nor is the morality of a modern 
free-thinker or semi-believer, worthy the 
name of Christian. It must be baptized in 
the name of the Father, the Son, and the 
Holy Ghost, before it will be endued with 
power to forgive enemies, and those who 
persecute and evil entreat. Revenge was a 
virtue w T ith heathen moralists, nor is it far 
otherwise with bare moralists now. Christ- 
ian morality, however, is of a wholly differ- 
ent character. 

It is not, however, my intention to preach 
a long sermon to those who may read these 
sheets, on the subject of religion; yet I do 



MORALITY AND RELIGION. 91 

wish to impress the fact on the mind of every 
youth, that religion ought to be his first 
business. And in this I am only repeating 
the instruction furnished them by the Sa- 
viour: " Seek first the kingdom of God and 
his righteousness, and all these things (tem- 
poral good) shall be added. 55 The nature 
of religion, I certainly need not pause to ex- 
plain. In a country like this, where churches 
are so numerous., and the means of grace 
accessible to all, there cannot be any neces- 
sary darkness on this question. Character 
and standing, based on religion, " pure and 
undefiled before God and the Father, 55 is 
always worthy and permanent. The heart 
being renewed, and the affections running 
in a right channel, will be almost sure to 
conduct to honor and usefulness — happiness 
and peace. The foundation thus laid being 
strong, the superstructure reared upon it will 
not be likely to crumble down by age, or 
yield to opposing powers. Good moral 
character commences in the fear of God, 
repentance of sin, and firm resolutions of 
rectitude, to be maintained during life, and 
is carried out and effectuated by attention to 



92 BENEFITS OF EARLY PIETY. 

a regular course of religious duty. This 
will establish manly principles, give a manly 
bearing to the whole deportment of life, and 
effectually cure and destroy those foolish 
tastes which lead so many young persons to 
ruin. Religion in early life also throws into 
good society, and gives a taste for what is 
honorable, virtuous, and of good report. 

Religion, vital and saving, is important to 
all, in every period of life. The Bible, con- 
science, and the common sense of mankind, 
all unitedly declare this. Yet is it more es- 
pecially necessary to those who are forming 
a character which is to cleave to them 
throughout life. But few arrive at middle 
age, or advanced years, but have to regret 
some youthful folly which they could wish 
were blotted from the page of their history. 
To do this now is quite impossible, It 
might have been avoided once, but cannot 
now be erased. Many also contract habits 
and form tastes which are matters of long 
and mournful regret afterwards. Early 
piety is a safeguard against these. It leads 
into new society, and saves from that which 
is vicious. It saves from many temptations 



ATTENTION TO RELIGION. 93 

and snares, into which the careless and irre- 
ligious are sure to fall. So that he who em- 
braces religion early is much more likely to 
be steadfast in his profession, than the one 
w T ho defers so important a matter to a more 
advanced period. The former has but few 
temptations compared to the latter ; his life 
therefore is much more tranquil, his course 
more steady, and his end more peaceful. 

Regular habitual attention to religious wor- 
ship is in this community indispensable to 
moral character and standing. Do any wish 
to test the truth of this remark ? the means 
are at hand. Compare the character and 
standing of those in your acquaintance who 
do, and such as do not, frequent a place of 
worship. Mark the difference between them. 
Whether a man be strictly religious or not, 
his character and influence, as a man and a 
citizen, w T ill be much bettered by steady 
regular church-going habits. So obvious is 
this fact to common observation, that it re- 
quires no more than a mere statement, to be 
convincing. 

Nothing is more essential to a moral and 
religious life, than a firm and unshaken faith 



94 MAN A RELIGIOUS BEING. 

in the verities of divine revelation, and the 
solemnities of a final judgment. Only let a 
sense of these be done away from the human 
mind, and all moral restraint of any force or 
value is gone with them. And fallen man, 
urged forward by the force of a reckless de- 
pravity, loses sight of future accountability 
for his conduct, and gives himself wholly to 
the enjoyments of the present. Saying to 
his soul, Take pleasure, eat, drink, and be 
merry, for to-morrow shall be as this day, 
and much more abundant in sensual gratify 
cation. 

It would not be difficult to show that be- 
lief in the essential doctrines of religion is 
indispensable to the well-being of society, 
as well as the happiness and temporal pros- 
perity of individuals. All human experience 
declares this truth, and the providence of 
God fully confirms the declaration. Every 
nation has had its religion, both doctrinal 
and practical, and in proportion to its purity 
has been the morality and happiness of the 
people. Says a popular historian,* "Man 
has been termed a religious being, because 

* Rollin. 



THIS A CHRISTIAN COUNTRY. 95 

in every age, and among all people, we dis- 
cover a reverence and awe of the divine 
Being, an homage paid to Him, and an 
open profession of entire dependence upon 
Him, in all their undertakings and neces- 
sities — in all their adversities and dangers. 
Incapable themselves to penetrate futurity, 
and to ascertain events in their own favor, 
we find them intent on consulting the divi- 
nity by oracles, and other methods of a like 
nature, and to merit His protection, by 
prayers, vows and offerings." 

The country in which we live, is called a 
Christian country, not because all the in- 
habitants are Christians, — would to God 
they were, — but because all our laws and 
institutions are based upon Christianity. Can 
that man, therefore, have a good reputation 
among his fellows, who pays no regard to 
that on w r hich so much reliance has been, 
and is still placed ? None but atheists can 
esteem him who indulges no reverence for 
the word of God, who has none of his fear 
before his eyes. He who chooses a course 
of irreligion, and prefers skepticism to a 
reverent faith in the Holy Scriptures, gene- 



96 HAPPINESS OF RELIGION. 

rally, if not always, chooses early infamy, if 
not an early grave. Reference could be 
easily had to numerous facts in proof of 
this, but I forbear to adduce them. "A 
word to the wise," is said to be sufficient. 
" The prudent man foreseeth the evil, and 
hideth himself," while the foolish pass on, 
and are punished. 

Infidelity and disbelief are no recommen- 
dation to any man. But it is especially 
disgusting, when it appears in the young. 
Whenever it is seen in such, there is always 
connected with it a bold face, disrespect for 
superiors in age and acquirements, and a 
contempt for such usages as general society 
deems important and sacred. How un- 
lovely do such things make a young man 
appear ! What a bad passport to the esteem 
and good-will of those who are capable of 
doing him more good than all others ! 

Nor does religion debar from enjoyment. 
None are so happy and contented, as the 
truly good. Storms may beat without, but 
" a contented mind is a continual feast." 
Conscious guilt and peace, are incompatible. 
They cannot exist together, being opposites; 



ENERGY OF CHARACTER. 97 

two antagonist ingredients in chemistry 
thrown together, effervesce until one over- 
comes the other. Conscience, God's deputy 
in the human bosom, must be subdued be- 
fore the guilty man can have inward calm- 
ness. But the devoted and pious, walking 
with nature and with God, verily feel 

"The day glides sweetly o'er their heads, 
Made up of innocence and love." 

This is not fancy, but fact — not fable, but 
reality. The whole community will sustain 
me in asserting, that nothing throws such a 
charm around the young as early piety. It 
gives polish to the loftiest intellect, lustre to 
natural beauty, and is a necessary finish to 
the best education. It must therefore be an 
important ingre ient in reputation, not to be 
neglected with impunity. 

Energy and decision is also essential to 
desirable character. Weakness of purpose, 
and constant vacillation, is always attended 
with non-success, and followed by contempt. 
This may be, to a certain extent, natural 
and constitutional with some, but in most 
cases is doubtless the result of habit. I need 
9 



98 ENERGY OF CHARACTER. 

not tell you that the man of no decision of 
character, whose business and purposes for 
life, like the fickle winds, are ever changing, 
scarcely ever succeeds. Observation has 
long since taught you this. The student 
who enters upon one branch of science, or 
course of study, and ere he is half through 
abandons it for another, to which his chang- 
ing fancy may lead, never excels in any. 
He who starts in a business, and because he 
meets with a few difficulties lays it aside, 
removes his residence and commences an- 
other, seldom makes a fortune. Life is too 
short to admit of our learning everything de- 
sirable to know, or pursuing every business 
promising a reward to industry. Every man 
must therefore select his course, fix his ob- 
ject, and then pursue the path leading to it, 
with undeviating firmness and undying in- 
dustry. 

There are temptations enough in every 
pursuit to lead an unstable mind from its 
legitimate course. It is so in the pursuit of 
knowledge, the cares of business, and the 
practice of religion. Man was not intended 
to waste his energies in idleness ; and he 



AND PURPOSE. 99 

who seeks pleasure need not dream of fame. 
The one who covets it must trim his sails to 
every breeze, from whatever quarter, and of 
consequence his course must be an indefinite 
and zigzag one. He on the contrary who 
determines to bless the w T orld and himself 
too, heeds but little the careering winds of 
popular fashion, and having his course fixed, 
plies the oar of personal application, and 
overcomes every obstacle that fortune seem- 
ed to throw in his w 7 ay, until he astonishes 
both his friends and himself. He has deve- 
loped in himself powers which at first he 
was wholly unconscious of possessing. He 
has gained points which he formerly sup- 
posed could only be reached by the loftiest 
intellects, aided by the most advantageous 
circumstances. 

Dr. Franklin is a case in point. He w r as a 
specimen of firmness and decision of charac- 
ter from his early boyhood. Fortune did not 
favor him half so much as resolution. A 
man who, like him, fixes his course in wis- 
dom, and then prefers living upon saw-dust 
puddings rather than throw away his princi- 
ples to please a junto of his pretended friends 



100 DR. FRANKLIN. 

or real patrons, need not fear the frowns of 
fortune. We may form some idea of his 
undying perseverance and firmness of pur- 
pose in the fact, that when attempting to 
unlock a hidden chamber of science, he 
daringly called fire from the clouds, duly to 
temper and take the rust from his key. 
Tempting fashions and foolish amusements 
were no doubt popular in his day as well as 
in ours. Inducements were held out to be- 
tray young men into improprieties, and lead 
them to abandon their purposed course of 
life. In his case, however, they were hap- 
pily unsuccessful. Yet young men in these 
days of rapid improvement think they have 
grown wiser than their ancestors, and hope 
to be great by treading in the seductive paths 
of fashion and folly. Mistaken men ! — they 
will soon find to their mortification and fruit- 
less regret, that they have made a serious 
miscalculation. Figs will not grow from 
thistles, nor character and standing from a 
course of thoughtless folly. Character so 
gained, if it be allowed the name, is as un- 
lovely in the eyes of the truly wise, as it is 
painful and troublesome to its possessor. 



FIRMNESS. 101 

Firmness and decision of purpose is con- 
spicuous as a predominant quality of mind, 
in every man who has distinguished himself 
in the world's history. History, both sacred 
and profane, pays a full tribute to the truth 
of this remark. Noah stood almost alone in 
his righteous course, in the midst of a world 
of wickedness. Moses had the courage to 
take a most singular course, and dared to 
tread upon the tempting honors of royalty. 
Daniel pursued undeviatingly the pious tenor 
of his w T ay, in the very teeth of a royal de- 
cree, that consigned him to the most fearful 
sepulchre ever opened to man. And St. Paul 
has perhaps never been equalled for the pre- 
dominance of this excellent quality of mind. 
Killed he might have been, but scared or 
turned aside he never was. This was be- 
yond the power of friends or foes. The former 
essayed it by boding prophecies and tears at 
Cesarea ; the latter, by throwing dust in the 
air at Ephesus. But all was in vain ; the 
undying firmness of the Apostle was not in 
the least shaken by it all. 

The same unyielding disposition has cha- 
racterized every distinguished man who has 



102 DECISION. 

lived since. We are indebted to this same 
spirit in Martin Luther for the Reformation 
and Protestantism. And permit me to say, 
that this spirit which dwelt so eminently in 
Luther, must soon be found in American 
Protestants, or some of the worst evils of the 
dark ages will ere long be visited upon us. 
Columbus had to overcome a world of diffi- 
culty, in order to carry out his cherished 
schemes of adventurous discovery. Hundreds 
of men would have shrunk from the attempt, 
though encouraged with abundance of prof- 
fered facilities. Yet solitary and alone, by 
the might of his own energy he conquered 
popular opposition, and fainted not under the 
withering influence of royal apathy. A new 
world has rewarded his resolute industry, 
nor shall his name perish while the sun en- 
dures. 

Your first point is to become intelligent, 
so as to discern a right from a wrong course. 
This may be attained by reading history and 
biography, together with close observation 
of men and things about you. Living men 
are a good and profitable study. Mark their 
rise, progress, business, mode of life, habits, 



HARD TOIL IS USEFUL. 103 

tempers, standing, and all attending circum- 
stances. This over, choose your own course, 
ever bearing in mind that like causes produce 
similar effects, all other things being equal ; 
settling it in your mind as an eternal princi- 
ple, that nothing is to be gained without 
labor. Never expect fortune to do aught 
that you should do yourselves ; then, having 
laid your course, like the mariner upon the 
trackless deep, fix your eye upon the pole 
star, and don't forget your reckoning. Your 
bark may be a slow sailer, and at first left far 
behind — yet, while others may be wrecked, 
you shall reach the port in safety and triumph. 
The race is not always to the swift, nor the 
battle won by the strong; Never should any 
be discouraged, because others seem naturally 
endowed with more firmness and decision 
than they. Habits are easily formed, either 
of weakness or strength, of vice or virtue. 
Courage and the power of endurance are 
the product of custom as well as nature. 
You may make yourself effeminate and indo- 
lent, or brave and persevering. " Manual 
labor," says an excellent author, " is a school 
in which men are placed to get energy of 



104 EMPLOYMENT NECESSARY. 

purpose and character; a vastly more im- 
portant endowment than all the learning of 
all the schools. They are placed, indeed, 
under hard masters, physical suffering and 
wants, the power of fearful elements, and the 
vicissitudes of all human things ; but these 
stern teachers do a work which no compas- 
sionate indulgent friend could do for us ; and 
true wisdom will bless Providence for their 
sharp ministry. I have great faith in hard 
work. I believe that difficulties are more 
important to the human mind than what we 
call assistances. Work we all must, if we 
mean to bring out and perfect our nature. 
No business or study, which does not pre- 
sent obstacles, tasking to the full the intellect 
and the will, is worthy of a man. I do not 
then desire to release the laborer from toil. 
This is not the elevation to be sought for 
him. Manual labor is a great good ; but, in 
so saying, I must be understood to speak of 
labor in its just proportion. It is not good 
when made the sole work of life. In excess 
it does great harm. It must be joined with 
higher means of improvement, or it degrades 
instead of exalting. Man has a various na- 



EMPLOYMENT NECESSARY. 105 

ture, which requires a variety of occupation 
and discipline for its growth. Study, medi- 
tation, society and relaxation, should be 
mixed up with physical toils. Life should 
be an alternation of employments, so diver- 
sified as to call the whole man into action." 
The idle man at any age was never 
happy. It is contrary to a law of his crea- 
tor, that he should be. Many hope for 
w r ealth, and the means to support them in 
inactivity. This is all wrong. Why not hope 
and toil for means of usefulness ? The reason 
why so many aged persons lose their facul- 
ties so soon, is because they are not kept in 
exercise. They rust for want of employ- 
ment. The most miserable, are those w 7 ho 
have nothing to do. The mind and body 
both should be employed to the last, if we 
wish to keep them vigorous. Man can be 
trained and accustomed to almost any thing. 
Bonaparte was born and trained in the heat 
of revolution and w T ar. A military life was 
then and there almost the only road to dis- 
tinction. He caught the inspiration of the 
times, and by dint of firmness and perseve- 
rance became eminent. It may, or may not 



106 EMPLOYMENT NECESSARY. 

have been natural to him. Had he been the 
son of a great farmer, and spent his youth 
in performing the duties of retired life, per- 
haps he would not have been such a prodigy 
of decision and firmness. What the world 
in his case has, therefore, called a natural 
endowment, may have been the result of cir- 
cumstances only. Many a man has laid the 
flattering unction to his soul, that he pos- 
sessed certain talents ; friends have flattered 
him into a belief that these must create for 
him certain distinction in a future day ; but, 
alas, for lack of diligence in their develop- 
ment, all has ended in disappointment. In 
cases where nature has seemed most parsi- 
monious, industry and application has created 
distinction. Most men rise because they 
will rise ; labor is every thing to the young, 
and fortune is generally an idle word, much 
in use, but seldom understood. 

Honesty and unyielding integrity in all 
transactions — be they large, and therefore 
publicly known — or so small as never to 
come to the light of public observation, is 
one of the most important attributes of cha- 
racter, and never dispensed with without 



HONESTY. 107 

manifest loss. No reproach so effectually 
and completely blasts and ruins a man's re- 
putation, as being called a rogue and cheat. 
Better be poor all the days of your life, with 
the consciousness of stern rectitude in prin- 
ciple and practice, than rich as Croesus, with 
the guilty reflection that wealth was impro- 
perly accumulated. It is bad enough to be 
called a rogue, and for ever branded in 
society as a dishonest man ; but it is in- 
finitely worse to feel the continual upbraid- 
ings of an inward guiltiness which allows 
the spirit no repose, either by night or day. 
A man may flee from the well-aimed shafts 
of others ; and in his moments of domestic 
retirement amidst his family and friends find 
comfort, provided he be innocent; but if 
guilty, in vain may he attempt to escape 
from the reprovings of his own conscience. 
Matters may also be so managed, that others 
may not be able to detect a dereliction from 
a course of integrity, and we may retire 
with some honor from the place of trade; 
but there is no comfort, except to the inno- 
cent; God and our own souls know, if 
others do not ; and this is sufficient to bar 



108 HONESTY. 

from all enjoyment. The open countenance 
and manly bearing — results of innocency — 
are gone. The money taken from an em- 
ployer's desk may never be missed ; but the 
fear that it will — the dread of detection — 
will create a burning sensation ; quenching 
for ever the flame of joy which was w r ont to 
light up the countenance, and fill with con- 
tinual trepidation, utterly incompatible with 
peace of mind. Other men may never know 
the depth of moral turpitude into which such 
an one has fallen ; but it is enough that he 
knows it himself, and dreads its fearful con- 
sequences. 

Self-respect is a wall of protection to in- 
nocency. But one dishonest act, however 
trifling, weakens, and two or three destroy it 
for ever. It matters but little where the 
opinions of society place a man, if he knows 
himself to be numbered with the dishonest 
and vulgar. The way is prepared to every 
species of crime, no matter how degrading. 
No man can be a gentleman after having 
lost self-respect. Thousands are annually 
ruined by not heeding the first step in a 
downward passage. The first guilty act 



DISHONESTY RUINOUS. 109 

relaxes the stern principle of integrity, dis- 
orders the whole moral machinery, and the 
man is in ruins, without being aware of his 
condition. He is then left a prey to the 
fierce anarchy of every unruly passion, and 
the wild control of all those depravities 
which agitate and deform poor human na- 
ture. 

It is my object to impress upon your 
minds in the outset of your career, that the 
sin of dishonesty is not to be measured by 
the magnitude of its gains ; this principle 
of judgment has obtained far too extensively 
among men, and has doubtless misled many. 
" He that ofFendeth in one point is guilty of 
all," is the scriptural and only true rule in 
the case ; the act of crossing the line mark- 
ing the difference between honesty and 
dishonesty — not the distance travelled after- 
wards — is what constitutes the chief cri- 
minality. The point of time in which prin- 
ciple yielded to temptation was the most 
important one, because the work of degrada- 
tion and ruin then commenced ; the moral 
principles then gave way — w T hether the re- 
sulting gain was a penny or a thousand 
10 



110 DISHONESTY RUINOUS. 

pounds. And if the circumstances come to 
the light of public notoriety, the community 
will award the heaviest condemnation to the 
seemingly smaller offence, because the tempt- 
ation was less. In this they are right, as the 
moral depravity is certainly the most appa- 
rent. 

We always despise the highwayman, but 
are ever wont to deem him the worst who 
commits murder under circumstances afford- 
ing the least prospect of gain, — rightly 
judging that there depravity has done its 
most perfect work. On the same principle, 
he who cheats another out of a small sum, 
is supposed to possess a meaner soul than 
the one who plays the rogue for a higher 
prize. In both cases, however, vileness will 
be their ruin, " and their sins will find them 
out. 55 

Whether it be right or wrong, it cannot 
be disputed that the community will retain 
the remembrance of one mean or wicked 
act, while scores of virtuous and praiseworthy 
deeds are forgotten altogether; it is so in 
savage and civilized life. " He once told a 
lie, 55 is, with an Indian, a sufficient reason 



HONESTY THE BEST POLICY. Ill 

for refusing to credit him for ever after. We 
are much more apt to remember the stormy 
than the clear day — the ugly than the beau- 
tiful face. Perhaps the reason is, because 
they are unnatural or unexpected, and there- 
fore leave the deeper impression. Every 
man's honour should be stainless and with- 
out suspicion ; one blot upon reputation, 
like a scar in the flesh, will be carried with 
you to the grave. 

He, therefore, who covets worthy reputa- 
tion, must not tamper with either large or 
small temptations. His only safety is not to 
touch, taste or handle. In buying or selling, 
to speak truth only, in the integrity of his 
heart, and in the sight of God his Judge, is 
the only safe course. If he could make 
himself rich by a false representation, he is 
better, far better, without it. The true secret 
of successful resistance of temptation in this, 
as in all other cases, is not to indulge or give 
a moment's place to dishonorable thoughts 
and suggestions. Nor can any one long 
pursue this course, without its being known 
to his employers, or those who trade with 
him. The eyes of the community are soon 



112 SELFISHNESS. 

turned upon him as a trust-worthy man of 
honor, and his very word carries as much — 
nay, more — security along with it, than the 
signature and security which is exacted of 
other men. This, you will say, is an argu- 
ment derived from selfishness. I admit it ; 
and in so doing, willingly pay a tribute to 
the force and power of this principle. Sel- 
fishness is one of those principles which 
mightily aid in preserving the peace of the 
world, and contributing to the happiness of 
mankind. Nations respect each other, be- 
cause they hope to derive gain from the 
maintenance of peaceful relationship. The 
employer and employed are bound to each 
other by the same principle of personal ad- 
vantage, which, carried out as it is, into all 
the ramifications of society, shows it to be a 
providential arrangement for the common 
good. Every man is, and should be, influ- 
enced in his conduct by the effect his own 
course w T ill produce upon himself — what 
opinion the world will form of his character. 
I admit that the fear of Divine displeasure, 
and the hope of Divine favor, are much 
loftier principles of action. But, though it 



SELFISHNESS. 113 

be a humiliating view of poor fallen hu- 
manity, which fully confirms the representa- 
tion given of it in the Holy Scriptures, it 
must be admitted that selfishness, with the 
multitude, exerts a much more potent influ- 
ence than the declared will of God, or the 
approaching retributions of the last day. If 
there were no other proof of a common de- 
pravity resting upon all our species, this of 
itself is sufficient to show the grievous state 
of revolt from divine control in which society 
exists. The query seldom comes up — what 
is the pleasure of Him who made and sus- 
tains me, but what opinions will men form 
of my conduct, and how will it affect other 
transactions through life? The trite maxim, 
that " honesty is the best policy," is fre- 
quently powerfully influential for good to 
society, where the fear of God has little or 
no influence. The hope is however indulged, 
that those who condescend to read these 
pages, will " seek first the kingdom of God 
and his righteousness," to which they have 
been previously recommended, that both 
principles may have their appropriate influ- 
10 * 



114 ECONOMY. 

ence in the formation of their character, and 
wise direction of their lives. 

But few, however, in the ordinary walks 
of life, will for any length of time maintain 
strict honesty and integrity of character with- 
out economy. Could we investigate the life 
and doings of the veriest outlaw existing, 
whose sole occupation is highway robbery 
and murder, it would be found, I verily be- 
lieve, that he commenced a dishonest course 
of life to meet the demands of habitual pro- 
fligacy of expenditure. I doubt whether any- 
thing is more dangerous to a man's whole 
character, than careless improvidence in early 
life. The mechanic, clerk, or tradesman, 
wishes to ape the gentleman. His coat 
must be as fine and fashionable — his house 
and furniture must correspond with his ap- 
pearance in the street — in a word, he must 
maintain appearances in a style equal to 
those about him. But his income is mode- 
rate, and will not justify it. It is sufficient 
for the necessaries and comforts of life, but 
not for its gaieties and superfluities. What 
is to be done ? style must not be curtailed, 
let the consequences be what they may. 



EXPENSE OF FASHION. 115 

Peculation and downright dishonesty is re- 
sorted to, to save from open failure and 
dreaded disgrace. How much better to 
have never plunged into such a course of 
life, as to involve so fearful an alternative ! 
Every man should live within his means, 
and, if possible, save a little to serve as his 
support and maintenance during sickness, 
and times of revulsion in trade. "Without 
such a prudent carefulness, he will find him- 
self in serious difficulties, and be compelled 
to ask aid from his neighbors, more than 
once in his life-time. The money foolishly 
spent by most persons before they reach their 
twenty-fifth year, if properly saved, would 
serve to set them up in profitable business. 
What must be the regret, therefore, of such, 
when a few years have furnished them with 
sufficient discretion to see their former errors! 
But, unfortunately, they see it too late. Half 
of life is past, their earnings have been trans- 
ferred to other hands, and, what is worse 
than all, in too many cases, habits of useless 
expenditure are formed, w T hich cleave to 
them like their shadow during life. 

It was the saying of a wise man, "Take 



116 CARE OF LITTLE THINGS. 

care of the pennies, and the dollars will take 
care of themselves." Parents themselves are 
apt to teach, and children do not forget the 
lesson, that pennies and sixpences are of but 
little account. Rivers are composed of drops 
— the tree grows from an acorn, or a small 
seed. Throughout nature, Divine Provi- 
dence has instructed us to regard little mat- 
ters as worthy of notice. And he who, reck- 
less of reason, nature, and the cautions of 
friendship, improvidently dashes into a course 
of prodigal expenditure, will most probably 
see the time when he will know the value of 
little things, as they will constitute all his 
wealth. He who would carefully save his 
earnings, and avoid spending everything as 
fast as it is acquired, will have to look well 
to his associations and habits. If he accus- 
tom himself to attend balls and parties of 
fashion — to be in company almost every 
evening, in vain may he hope ever to save a 
dollar beyond present wants. His income 
may increase, but the demand for its expen- 
diture will proportionately enlarge. By skill 
and industry, he may manage to preserve 
an even balance for a few years, but unfore- 



KINDNESS. 117 

seen circumstances will throw him behind 
hand, while the score will go on accumu- 
lating against him. At first, he will save 
himself from disgrace by borrowing of a 
friend, and apply the whole force of his in- 
genuity to keep up appearances ; but it is all 
vain ; there are too many leaks, no one of 
which can be stopped without an acknow- 
ledgment of his pecuniary disabilities. He 
therefore suffers matters to proceed to a 
crisis, and sinks at once from observation, 
perhaps to rise no more for ever. How many 
such unfortunate wrecks now line the bor- 
ders of fashionable life, w T ho, had they begun 
right, and taken the honorable course of 
self-denial and economy, w 7 ould have been 
ornaments to society, living in respectable 
competence, if not affluence ! 

Kindness and good nature, in social inter- 
course, vastly contributes to character and 
happiness in life. You doubtless know T many 
w T ho, in various respects, are excellent men ; 
their moral standing as citizens is without 
reproach, and their lives are so regular as to 
gather about them a most excellent moral 
influence ; yet, although you entertain for 



118 KINDNESS. 

them a marked respect, you cannot love 
them. They seem to live alone, in the heart 
of a dense population. If they are men of 
science, there is such an unsocial moroseness 
about them, that they seem to communicate 
none of their light to others. Are they men 
of business ? you are not fond of trading with 
them — or if they are religious, you are not 
disposed to question their piety — but it wins 
not ; there is such a sour gloominess about 
it, that to you it holds out no invitation. I 
have no doubt that strong prejudices unfa- 
vorable to religion in general have been 
formed, and many have perished from the 
way, because of the ambiguous and unintel- 
ligible signals that such men have held out. 

Such you may respect for their many vir- 
tues, but love them you cannot ; it is con- 
trary to a law of your nature which you find 
it difficult to control. Be careful, then, that 
what is unlovely in others do not cleave to 
you, lest you form the same character ere 
you are aware. Habits, either of feeling or 
action, are soon fixed. A severe, morose, 
and unkind temper, or a kind and amiable 
one, is a matter of cultivation, as well as of 



MANLINESS. 119 

nature. It is for each one to say whether he 
will have many or few friends — w r hether he 
will be loved or hated, held to, or despised. 
No man should ever forget that it is now as 
true as it ever was, < that he who w r ould have 
friends must show himself friendly' — a maxim 
as wise as it is divine — which should never 
lose its influence over us. 

Let me not be misunderstood, however. 
I would not have you sacrifice principle for 
the sake of friendship. You are always to 
preserve a manly dignity in the acquisition 
of social dispositions and habits. Losing 
sight of this, you will miss your aim and fall 
into contempt. Some there are, who, seeing 
the great value of social kindness as an at- 
tribute of character, attempt its attainment 
without duly understanding its nature, and 
render themselves ridiculous in the eyes of 
all, by bowing, scraping, and assenting to 
every opinion of their fellows,, whether right 
or wrong ; thus evincing that they have no 
minds of their own to rely upon — and what 
is still worse, that they are guided by no 
fixed principles of action or opinion. Whilst 
this is to be avoided by maintaining a proper 



120 EXERTION OF INFLUENCE. 

self-respect and manliness of deportment, 
such attention should always be paid to those 
about us, and such social habits formed, as 
will secure us a place in their affectionate 
regards. 

We are not placed here so much to find 
fault w T ith the errors of others, as to do them 
good. Forgetting this, some are ever com- 
plaining that the world is not what it should 
be — always looking at the gloomy side of 
matters, without once dreaming that this 
course will tend to sour their own spirits, 
render their society unsavory to their asso- 
ciates, and thus disarm them of all power of 
usefulness. The object of these pages is to 
point out <a more excellent way;' the way 
of exerting a kind and salutary power over 
those with whom you associate ; that having 
w T on upon their better feelings, you may lead 
them into the happy paths of virtue, and thus 
save them from the evils of which you com- 
plain. 



ANTAGONIST INFLUENCES. 121 



CHAPTER IV. 

DANGERS COMMON TO YOUTH. 

I have been urging the necessity of a good 
moral and manly character, and pointing to 
those means which directly lead to its forma- 
tion. You cannot be too deeply impressed 
with a sense of the importance, nor too in- 
dustriously use the means which invariably 
lead to good character. Reputation to a man 
who has to live among men, and therefore 
has much to gain or lose, is almost everything. 
Confidence is the soul of business ; nor will 
he who inspires none ever do much. 

But there are various antagonist influences 
operating in all communities, especially in 
large cities and densely populated towns, 
tending to prevent young persons from form- 
ing and maintaining moral and religious cha- 
racter. In addition to that natural reckless- 
ness, resulting from inexperience, sloth, love 
11 



122 LABOR AND TOIL 

of leisure, and aversion to laborious effort, 
so common to humanity, there are numerous 
temptations held out to allure, decoy, and 
lead away young men from the happy paths 
of religion, virtue, and moral worth. A few 
of these may be named. 

Ambition cries for immediate distinction. 
An anxiety is felt to be placed side by side 
with the older portions of the community 
without having had time for such a result ; 
a desire to stand upon the mountain's sum- 
mit, without enduring the intermediate toil. 
Youth and inexperience are apt to be enthu- 
siastic ; to expect the end without the sturdy 
and continued use of the means naturally 
leading to it. Ambition, under due control, 
is a great virtue ; and its absence is a most 
wretched misfortune, for which nothing can 
atone ; but then it should be properly direct- 
ed and applied, or, like the unruly horse, it 
will create ruin by too great haste. The re- 
sult of over-anxiety to be placed in the front 
ranl^ either of literature or wealth, is gener- 
ally failure and discouragement. Every man 
wants to be a star, to attract the eyes and 
engross the attention of his associates; but 



GO BEFORE DISTINCTION. 123 

he should remember that to gain his object, 
time, labor, and unremitting industry, are 
required. To reach the heights of a moun- 
tain, all the intermediate distance is to be 
traversed. To be a man of knowledge, much 
reading and self-denial are to be used. The 
end is not so important now as the success- 
ful use of the means leading to it. You 
should be more anxious to secure the next 
step than the glory of standing on the moun- 
tain's loftiest point. It is well that there is 
no royal road to fame and distinction in this 
country. I heartily rejoice that there is none. 
Every man now has his own w 7 ay to make 
through life ; future standing and respecta- 
bility is the prize for which he is called upon 
to contend. The discipline which his facul- 
ties will receive in gaining his object, will 
be of far more value to him than the prize 
itself, if inherited from his ancestors. Honor 
follows humility: he who w T ould walk erect 
hereafter must be willing to stoop now. In 
nine cases out of ten, those who blaze extra- 
ordinarily at first go out in obscurity, and in 
a few years are forgotten. Fruit of the most 
speedy growth, like the prophet's gourd, is 



124 USELESS COMPANY. 

found soonest to perish. Let ambition in- 
dulge large hopes for the future, but stifle 
and slay envy. If others outrun you, let 
them go, bid them good speed, and wish 
them success ; but relax no effort to enrich 
the soil of your own mind, suffering time 
and circumstances to develop abilities for 
usefulness. Gold will shine and command 
its value some time — baser metals may glow 
for a while, and command admiration from 
the vulgar, but will soon seek their level and 
lose fictitious importance. Let it never be 
forgotten that true greatness is the result of 
much toil and long years of diligent cultiva- 
tion. This once firmly fixed in the mind, 
will save from those discouragements which 
usually follow miscalculation and too early 
indulgence of a desire to shine. 

Habits of useless intercourse with associates 
are also vastly injurious to the young. Asso- 
ciation is natural, and all will more or less 
indulge in it; nor should a word be said 
against it, provided the tendency of it is to 
make youth wiser and better. But whilst 
this is conceded, it must be admitted that in 
all dense populations this indulgence is car- 



BAD HABITS. 125 

ried much too far. Time is valuable to all, 
yet not equally so. To the young, every 
day and hour is more precious than gold or 
silver. They have character to form, know- 
ledge to gain, and business habits to acquire. 
Some of these must be neglected if much 
time is needlessly spent in the idle chat of 
social parties. I have frequently passed the 
door of an engine house, toward evening, 
and seeing a number of young men hanging 
about it, in listless inaction, or cleaning the 
ornaments attached to the apparatus, I have 
enquired of myself, what prospects or hopes 
do such persons indulge for the future ? As 
they sow, so shall they reap. How they 
will regret the waste of this time, at a day 
not very distant, when taste for such matters 
has all vanished. 

This, however, is not all. Habits the 
most debasing are frequently formed in com- 
panies met jbr mere chat and pastime. It 
is here that young men, tenderly raised, and 
diligently cautioned against all unworthy 
practices, first learn to use vulgar language, 
their manners become corrupted, and their 
whole character debased. Here is also im- 
11 



126 GAMBLING. 

bibed a love for gaming, which, practised 
for a short time, so engrosses the whole man 
as to wither and destroy all taste for every 
virtuous pursuit, however useful, manly, or 
praiseworthy. Small games come first, — 
perhaps, merely for amusement, to while 
away the tedious hours, — nor does any one 
dream of serious consequences. How little 
do such know of human nature! Habits 
soon become fixed, and hard to eradicate. 
He who plays for amusement, in a short time 
becomes a proficient, turns his skill to pecu- 
niary advantage, and ere he is aware, finds 
himself a gambler. Thus the youth of much 
promise — the hope of doating parents, and 
joy of his friends — is unexpectedly on the 
downward road, and in a few years reaches 
a place of deep and irrecoverable infamy. 
Such habits are sure to poison every virtuous 
principle, and invariably blast all prospect 
of respectability and excellence. The dan- 
ger is in the first and apparently innocent 
stages, as is the case with all other vices by 
which the young and unwary are beguiled 
of their simplicity and innocence. 

In some cities, gambling-houses have in 



GAMBLING. 127 

their pay persons whose sole business it is to 
decoy young men, and specially strangers, 
into those places of ruin. They are at first 
invited to a party, and a sumptuous enter- 
tainment is provided. The unsuspecting 
youth is flattered by the attentions paid him. 
Wine and other more potent drinks are 
passed around, and the intended victim of 
their snares is treated with the utmost cour- 
tesy. When the potations in which they 
have freely indulged have produced the de- 
sired effect, cards and other games are in- 
troduced, and the one they intend to fleece, 
whom they call a " flat," is permitted to win 
invariably at first. He is thus inspired with 
unbounded confidence in his own skill, and 
an increased passion for play. The way to 
ruin is thus made smooth and inviting, and 
all obstacles are removed. He seems de- 
lighted to surpass others in his new employ- 
ment, and his pockets are filled with ready 
money. But ere he is aware, the tide turns, 
and all is gone, together with vast amounts 
that he has managed to borrow 7 of his friends. 
In a short time his manliness has all forsaken 
him, and he soon vanishes from respectable 



128 GAMBLING. 

society, and is found, if at all, in the most 
loathsome dens of vice, or waiting at some 
ferry for odd jobs, or the servant of some 
dirty bar-room, paid only in rum and the 
refuse of the forsaken table, with a tap-room 
bed for repose at night. 

Says a sprightly writer, " The passion for 
gambling is the worst that can possibly enter 
the human heart. I hardly ever knew a 
man who had once yielded to it, to break 
away from the strong temptation. It seems 
to seize upon him with the grasp of death. 
The victim of it is beyond the reach of coun- 
sel. It is in vain to address his judgment, 
his hopes, or his fears. He may be a kind- 
hearted man by nature, but it does no good 
to talk to him about his wife and children: 
he loves them, perhaps, although this infernal 
passion generally annihilates the social af- 
fections ; but he would take the last crust 
from his child's mouth, and cast him upon 
the unpitying world, sooner than give up the 
gratification of this hellish passion. Why ! 
it is stated, and probably with truth, that the 
late aid-de-camp of Lord Hutchinson, after 
having ruined himself by play, cut his throat 



GAMBLING. 129 

in a fit of despair. It happened, however, 
that his life was saved ; and after some 
weeks he recovered. The first place he 
w r ent to, after he was allowed by his surgeon 
to go out, was the very gaming house where 
he had lost his money and formed the des- 
perate purpose of destroying himself. Mr. 
Grant, who has paid a good deal of attention 
to this subject, thinks that the amount of 
money that is lost in the different gaming 
houses of London, cannot be less than 
.£8,000,000 a year. I have no doubt my- 
self that the sum is much greater. But this 
degrading and horrible passion is not con- 
fined to our sex. It prevails to an enormous 
extent among fashionable ladies ! Many is 
the husband who has been embarrassed most 
deeply by the cards of his wife." 

A few years since, I witnessed the execu- 
tion of a man for murder. When under the 
gallows, he briefly addressed the vast multi- 
tude that surrounded him. " Young men," 
said he, "you wish to avoid the horrid end 
to which I have come. Then avoid the 
means which have led me to it. Do you 
inquire what they were ? I answer, — first, 



130 GAMBLING. 

I fell into idle company, and to pass away 
time, cards were introduced. Of these I 
entertained the greatest horror, and for some 
time refrained from touching them. Yet I 
did not abandon my companions. Had I 
done this, I should have been safe. By suf- 
fering myself to be a spectator for a time, 
the horror for the practice left me, and I 
took some interest in the parties. By this 
means I gained some knowledge of an art 
to which I was before a total stranger. In 
a short time I was induced to try my skill, 
and was soon inducted into all the tricks of 
a business which was formerly the object of 
my greatest detestation. My history is soon 
told. In a short time murder had not half 
the horror attached to it, that card-playing 
had prior to my witnessing it." The poor 
fellow ceased to speak — the cap was drawn 
— the drop fell, and he was in eternity. So 
much for idle associations and the beginnings 
of evil. 

If my readers will pardon me, I will here 
introduce a case recently tried before the 
Criminal Court of St. Louis. The facts, 
though published in several periodicals, may 



AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 131 

never have met the eye of many who may 
read this work. And if they have, they 
should be matter of permanent record, for 
the benefit of those who come after us. 



THE ROAD TO RUIN. 

"The defendant in this case, (Augustus 
V. Jones,) was, probably, twenty-eight years 
of age, but w T ore the appearance of at least 
thirty-five. He had evidently once been a 
fine-looking man ; in stature he was some- 
thing over six feet, and his strongly-marked 
features and prominent forehead gave evi- 
dence of more than ordinary intellect. But 
you could clearly discover that he had be- 
come a prey to the monster, Intemperance — 
the mark of the beast was stamped upon his 
countenance, which gave it a vivid and un- 
natural glare. He was placed in the box 
w 7 ith others who were to be arraigned upon 
the indictments preferred against them. All 
the others had plead not guilty (as is usual), 
and a day was set for their trial. The de- 



132 AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 

fendant was told to stand up, and the clerk 
read to him the indictment, which charged 
him with having, on the 10th day of August, 
passed to one Patrick O'Neil a counterfeit 
bill, purporting to be issued by the Second 
Municipality of the city of New Orleans, for 
the sum of three dollars ; and upon being 
asked the question, Guilty or not guilty ? he 
replied, < Guilty — guilty!' Then, turning 
to the court, he remarked that, as this was 
the last time he ever expected to appear in 
court, he would be glad if he could be al- 
lowed to make a few remarks. The Judge 
told him to proceed. After a pause, in 
which he was evidently endeavouring to 
calm his feelings, he proceeded as follows : — 

May it please the Court — In the remarks 
I shall make, I will not attempt to extenuate 
my crime, or ask at your hands any sympa- 
thy in passing sentence upon me. I know 
that I have violated the laws of my country, 
and justly deserve punishment; nor would I 
recall the past, or dwell upon the bitter pre- 
sent, for my own sake. A wish to do good 
to others, is my only motive. 

I shall, with the indulgence of the court, 



AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 133 

give a brief narrative of my life, with a hope 
that those young men around me may take 
warning by it, and avoid the rock upon 
which I have split. I was born of respect- 
able parents, in the State of New Jersey, and 
during my childhood received every atten- 
tion that fond parents could bestow upon an 
only son. It was early discovered that I had 
a fondness for books, and my father, although 
in limited circumstances, determined to give 
me a liberal education. I was sent to a high 
school in the neighborhood, and such was 
my progress, that at twelve years of age my 
preceptor declared me qualified for college, 
and I accordingly entered one of the oldest 
universities of the country. Here I so dis- 
tinguished myself, that, at sixteen, I gradu- 
ated with the second honors of the institu- 
tion, and returned home, flushed w 7 ith the 
brilliant prospect of success that lay before 
me. I soon after commenced the study of 
law, and when only in my twentieth year, I 
obtained license to practice. 

Acting upon the advice of friends, I de- 
termined to try my fortune in the west. I 
accordingly arranged my affairs for departure 
12 



134 AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 

early in the fall of 1833. I will not detain 
you with an account of my separation from 
those I held most dear — suffice to say, that 
I received the blessings of my parents, and 
in return, promised faithfully and honestly to 
avoid all bad company, as well as their vices. 
Had I kept my promise, I should have been 
saved this shame, and been free from the 
load of guilt that hangs around me continu- 
ally, like a fiendish vulture, threatening to 
drag me to justice, for crimes as yet unre- 
vealed. But to return : I left my early 
home, where all had been sunshine, and 
where my pathway had been strew r ed with 
flowers, to try my fortune among strangers, 
and to try my strength in buffeting the storms 
and tempests of the world. With light heart, 
I looked forward to the future ; and taking 
the usual route, I soon reached Wheeling, 
w 7 here I took passage on a boat for Louis- 
ville. On the boat, a game of cards was 
proposed for amusement, and although I had 
promised faithfully to avoid such things, 
still, I argued to myself, there was no harm 
in playing a game for amusement. 

Accordingly, I joined the party, and w r e 



AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 135 

kept up the amusement most of the way 
down. After we left Cincinnati, it was pro- 
posed to bet a bit a game, merely, as it was 
said, to make it interesting. My first im- 
pression was to leave the table, but I was 
told that it was only a bit — that I could not 
lose more than one or two dollars. This 
argument prevailed, for I lacked moral cou- 
rage to do what was right. I feared my 
companions would say I was stingy of a 
little money. Influenced by those feelings, 
I played ; and, as the fates would have it, I 
won. Before we reached Louisville, we 
had twice doubled the stake, and I found 
my luck enabled me to pay my passage out 
of my winnings. It was the first time ever 
I had bet money, and my success ruined me. 
Again I played, and was again successful ; 
and, in short, I continued to play for amuse- 
ment, until I had acquired a thirst for gam- 
bling. I settled in a thriving village in 
Tennessee, and commenced the practice of 
my profession under flattering auspices, and 
my first appearance in a criminal court was 
highly complimented, and I soon became 
known throughout the circuit. Things went 



136 AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 

on thus for more than a year, and I believed 
myself fairly on the road to fame and fortune. 
I occasionally played cards ; but I consoled 
myself with the idea, that I only played with 
gentlemen for amusement. 

One night, I accompanied some young 
men to a gambling-shop, and for the first 
time in my life I saw a Faro Bank. My 
companions commenced betting, and I was 
induced to join them, although I did not un- 
derstand the game. Again I played with 
success ; and when we left the house, was 
more than two hundred dollars winner. 
None of my companions had been fortunate, 
and it was insisted that I was the lucky man, 
and that I must treat. We accordingly re- 
paired to my room, where I ordered wine, 
and before we broke up we were all deeply 
intoxicated. With me, it was the first time, 
and the next day I resolved that I would 
never play cards again. I adhered to the 
determination for nearly three months, when 
I yielded to the entreaties of my dissipated 
associates. 

I now played with varied success, and in 
all cases found an excuse for resorting to 



AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 137 

the wine bottle. If I lost, I drank to drown 
sorrow ; if I won, I treated my good for- 
tune. Thus I progressed upon my down- 
ward course, until drinking and gambling 
became my chief employments. All my 
friends who were worth preserving aban- 
doned me, until my only associates were 
drunkards and gamblers. When almost re- 
duced to want, (for I had left off business,) 
I received a letter, informing me of the death 
of my father — that father that w 7 atched over 
my early years — who loved me so tenderly. 
And did I act as an affectionate child ? No. 
Vice had destroyed the human feelings of 
my heart, and left only the animal passions 
and appetites. As the letter contained a 
check for five hundred dollars, a part of my 
poor father's hard earnings, I drow T ned my 
grief that night in Bacchanalian revel, and 
in a few days I was again penniless. I will 
not dw r ell upon the every-day scenes of my 
life, which w T ere such as may at all times be 
witnessed at any of the two hundred dram- 
shops of your city, where w r retched men 
squander the little pittance that justly be- 
longs to their suffering wives and children. 
12* 



138 AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 

But, to pass on. For nearly three years 
I have been a drunken, wandering outcast. 
Six months ago, I received a letter from my 
dear mother, enclosing $100, and informing 
me that she was fast sinking with disease, 
and entreating, with all a mother's feeling, 
to come home and see her before she died. 
For a time I felt the appeal, and resolved to 
comply with her request ; and accordingly 
took passage on a steamboat for that purpose. 
For two days I refrained from liquor, but my 
thirst became insupportable. At length, my 
appetite overpowered my better feelings, and 
I approached the bar and demanded liquid 
fire. I was soon intoxicated, when I madly 
sought the gambler's table ; and before the 
boat reached Louisville I was stript of every 
cent. Thus all hopes of seeing my dying 
mother were cut off. I remained at Louis- 
ville several weeks, in which time I learned 
that my mother had died, and that her last 
breath was spent in prayer for her wretched 
child. 

From Louisville I shipped on board the 
steamer Brazil as a deck hand, and came to 
this place, where I was discharged for drunk- 



AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 139 

enness. Let every young man reflect upon 
this picture. I, who had moved in the first 
circles of society, had been the guest of dis- 
tinguished public men, and a favorite among 
the literati of our country, was now turned 
off as unfit for a deck hand on a steamboat ; 
yet intemperance had done this much. 

I loitered about the city for several weeks, 
and was sometimes engaged in posting up 
the books of some dram-shop, for which I 
was paid in the liquid fire kept for the ac- 
commodation of customers. One evening I 
fell in company with a man who has lately 
been lodged in jail for passing counterfeit 
money. We played cards, and I won from 
him the three dollar bill in question. The 
next day I learned it was counterfeit, and did 
not offer to pass it for several days. But at 
last I got out of all employment. I had no 
other money. I could meet no one who 
would ask me to drink. My appetite was 
like a raging fire within me. I could not 
endure it. I sought a dram-shop — offered 
the bill — it was accepted ; and when found 
a few hours after, by the officers of justice, 
I was beastly drunk. 



140 AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 

The evidence of guilt was conclusive ; 
and before my brain was clear of the intoxi- 
cating fumes, I was lodged in jail to await 
my trial. I am now done. I have not de- 
tained the Court with any hope or wish that 
clemency would be extended to my case ; 
but with a hope that my example may be a 
warning to other young men — that those who 
hear me may, when asked to play a social 
game of cards , or drink a social glass, think 
of my fate and refrain. They may feel them- 
selves secure — they may believe that they 
can stop when they please ; but let them re- 
member that I argued thus untiM was lost. 
[Here the defendant sunk down and appear- 
ed to be very much affected, and for a few 
moments silence reigned throughout the 
Court-house.] 

At length the judge, who is as much dis- 
tinguished for the qualities of his heart as he 
is for learning as a judge, proceeded in a 
brief but appropriate manner to pass sentence 
upon the defendant, putting his punishment 
in the penitentiary down to the shortest time 
allowed by law." 

By all that is sacred and lovely in manly 



PROFANITY. 141 

character and moral excellence, as you re- 
gard your present standing in society, and 
indulge the hope of future good, let me en- 
treat you to forbid the entrance of such 
temptations. As you respect your parents 
and friends, and wish to preserve and main- 
tain the worthy reputation of your family ; 
as you desire success in business, and re- 
spectability in life, have no fellowship w T ith 
the gamester on a large or small scale. Be 
he poor or rich, fashionable or rustic; his w 7 ay 
is dark, a curse hangs over it, and it leads 
directly to the chambers of eternal death. 
Let every youth study to show himself ap- 
proved to all the good by keeping out of his 
way, always and on all occasions, lest he 
share in the miserable cup of which he has 
to drink, and be cut off as the gamester al- 
ways is, in the midst of his days. 

Profanity is also a crying and grievous 
evil in this day. Is there any need of cau- 
tion against this most vulgar and loathsome 
vice ? With the majority I trust there is not. 
Yet in a large shop or place of business there 
are frequently found some who use improper 
language. Its daily occurrence allays its 



142 PROFANITY. 

offensiveness, and then care is necessary lest 
the same habit be imbibed. You are horror- 
stricken when you hear an oath come from 
the mouth of a little boy in the street. Older 
persons are affected in the same way on hear- 
ing it from you. Nothing is or can be more 
disgusting. Some coxcombs think it manly 
to wish their companions in hell, and pro- 
fanely to use the holy name of God ; but it 
makes them appear superlatively contempti- 
ble to all but vagabonds. You seldom hear 
an oath from any one who has any claim to 
respectability. A wise and inspired man 
hath said, " evil communications corrupt 
good manners." To prove the truth of this, 
ask yourself, did you ever hear a polite man 
swear ? I will venture you never did. He 
may have been rich, have held a high office, 
but like whale-meat, he was coarse. His 
private life was low, and he abounded in 
« dirty tricks." A gentleman will not use 
profane language. How disgusting it is to 
hear a man interlard every sentence with an 
oath — a curse on himself or some one else. 
It is not decent, nor would it be tolerated in 
good society. If it is deemed an insult in 



INFIDELITY. 143 

presence of ladies, why is it not equally so 
in that of genteel men ? 

If you have contracted such an indecent 
habit, you are ruined for ever, unless it be 
broken immediately. If you wish to go to 
the very bottom of society, and then to dark- 
ness eternal, do choose a more decent road ; 
one not quite so direct. I consider the infa- 
mous black-leg a gentleman compared with 
the profane swearer ; as the former holds 
man and his laws in contempt ; the latter 
God and his fearful thunder. As you, there- 
fore, regard your present and future welfare, 
you will avoid the practice of swearing. 

Youth is also in danger from the wiles of 
infidelity. The chameleon hues of modern 
skepticism are so various, it is difficult to 
furnish you with a description sufficiently 
graphic and true to life. Its character and 
complexion varies with the causes which 
give it birth and being. No man, great or 
small, ancient or modern, has ever attempted 
to embody or give it substantial form ; and 
it may be doubted whether any one can. 
Its advocates deal in sophistry, and spend 
their force in efforts to unsettle the faith of 



144 INFIDELITY. 

the orthodox, rather than tell us what they 
believe themselves. Indeed, their faith is a 
general and acrimonious system of doubt. 
Their knowledge of the Scriptures is gene- 
rally superficial, as are their other attain- 
ments; and in most cases they have more 
talk than brains. Ridicule is their choice 
and deadliest weapon, which has been too 
often wielded successfully in slaying the 
pious resolutions of the young and incau- 
tious. The difficulties thrown in the way 
of a scriptural faith by the heroes of infidel- 
ity, have been a thousand times answered ; 
but the lilliputian skeptics of modern times 
affect to forget the answers, whilst with an 
iron recollection they hold fast to the diffi- 
culties. In their attacks upon the venerable 
structure of Christianity and divine revela- 
tion, skeptics have learned that it is much 
easier to deny than to disprove. 

Infidelity has often arrogated to itself all 
the learning and talent, the wisdom and tact 
of society, while it has conceded that Chris- 
tianity has prevailed among the weak and 
illiterate. A claim of this kind cannot pos- 
sibly affect any except the most ignorant in 



INFIDELITY. 145 

the community, as nothing can be more un- 
true. The master spirits in the records of 
literary fame have been found among the 
most devout worshippers of the God of the 
Bible. And although I do not intend to 
furnish a list of names in proof of this as- 
sertion, I may ask — where in this contro- 
versy stood Sir Isaac Newton, who, after he 
had finished his astronomical studies, sat 
down and composed a commentary on the 
New Testament? Locke and Bacon were 
devout believers, with almost all others 
whose literary labors have long blessed man- 
kind. And not to go abroad, let each reader 
ask himself who they are, who have most 
benefited, enlightened, and favored his own 
land ? Who have planned, reared and en- 
dowed the colleges and institutions of learn- 
ing which now grace our country, and at 
which most of the great men of this nation 
received their power of usefulness ? Where 
is one such institution that was gotten up by 
infidels ? If their principles are good, why 
are they not also useful ? And I would en- 
treat every youth to cast his eye about him 
in society, and look for those who are most 
13 



146 INFIDELITY. 

active in doing good. Who most efficiently 
help the poor? Who build and endow 
asylums for the desolate widow and forsaken 
orphan ? Are they not those whose faith in 
the verities of divine revelation is their prin- 
cipal prompter to such deeds of goodness? 
They expect no reward here, but look for it 
at the resurrection of the just. In whose 
steps do you wish to tread ? whose virtues 
do you covet to emulate ? 

Sin and infidelity mutually depend upon 
each other. Do away one, and the other 
will no where exist. As long, however, as 
men love vice, and the practice of sin is 
pleasant, and infidelity will excuse or pal- 
liate its enormity, admirers it will have, 
though the present consequences be ignorance 
and crime, and the future, eternal death. 
The natural desire of all men is to be free 
of restraint and responsibility. This is a 
fruitful source of skepticism. But the prin- 
cipal danger to young persons is the society 
of semi-infidels — popularly called free-think- 
ers — into which they may be thrown, not 
from choice, but the force of circumstances. 
And by hearing their daily conversation — 



INFIDELITY. 147 

sneers at religion, (which they call supersti- 
tion or bigotry,) or foolish sophistry — falsely 
termed argument — they become warped and 
biassed, until judgment loses its balance. 
Being also deficient in the corrective power 
which general knowledge and reading im- 
parts, they are fatally led into the region of 
doubt and disbelief. 

To their shame be it spoken, men of an 
unsettled faith, having no hope in God them- 
selves, find their chief pleasure in trying to 
unsettle the faith of others. Those younger 
than they, and who, for want of knowledge, 
experience, or skill in argument, are unable 
to refute their shameless sophistries, are 
generally selected as their victims. I need 
not pause to remark on the baseness of such 
a course. Such do the work of their mas- 
ter, and are the principal agents of his Sa- 
tanic majesty. Barely to name them is, I 
trust, quite sufficient to guard you against 
their society, when practicable. I once 
knew a case of this kind. A learned and 
grey-headed infidel boarded with a family 
where there was a pious mechanic. Both 
ate at the same table, and were on the most 



148 INFIDELITY. 

friendly terms. So far all was well enough. 
But the zealous skeptic wished to make a 
proselyte, and therefore w T as ever and anon 
throwing difficulties in the way of the honest 
mechanic's faith. This was borne with, for 
a season. Yet the unlettered believer, 
though unshaken in his opinions by all that 
he heard, was desirous of enjoying his own 
tenets in peace. He therefore made his cir- 
cumstances known to his pastor, which soon 
cured the evil, as the minister requested an 
interview under circumstances in which the 
faith of each might be tested by rational 
argument. This of course was declined by 
the unbeliever, as he feared the consequences 
of a contest with one who was his equal in 
information. Thus the matter ended, and 
the faithful christian was afterward allowed 
to pursue his course without molestation. 

How strange it is, that infidelity should 
be so eager to make proselytes ! Surely, it 
must be a fiend, that hardens and destroys 
the heart. It seeks to rob mourners of their 
only consolation, the unfortunate of their 
chief and only solace, the sick and dying of 
their only hope; to unbind all the ties of 



INFIDELITY. 149 

society, and spread ruin and a heartless de- 
pravity, with all its chilling influences, 
through the community. Christianity is re- 
presented as having shed rivers of blood, 
while all the candid know that want of 
Christianity — party spirit — has caused all 
the evils ever imputed by infidels to Christ- 
ianity itself ; — w T hile infidelity and atheism 
have, within the memory of men now living, 
in the emporium of boasted refinement, cut 
off thousands of the virtuous, the aged, the 
youthful, the humble, the noble, the mother, 
the maid, and even the infant : — and then, 
like a furious serpent, having no more to 
bite, it turned and fanged itself. 

All this has infidelity done, and yet the 
half is not told. Need more be said, to 
warn all who read these pages against its 
destructive snares ? Mental dissipation, too, 
has made many an unbeliever; — whilst deep 
research into the mysteries of nature, and 
godliness, and a general knowledge of the 
history of mankind, has cured thousands 
of their previous hallucinations. Another 
strong argument in favor of intellectual cul- 
tivation. 

13* 



150 INFIDELITY. 

I have frequently thought it must be ex- 
ceedingly difficult for the skeptic, and down- 
right infidel, to live happily in society, as 
matters now are. He cannot get a man to 
go into business with him, if his sentiments 
are known, unless it be a man as careless or 
unbelieving as himself. He cannot go to 
church, where others love to be; for he does 
not believe the doctrines there taught; and 
if he does venture occasionally to be found 
there with the multitude, he gets excited 
with rage before he leaves, so that it is a 
torment, instead of a comfort to him. He 
cannot mix in the society of virtuous ladies : 
they spurn and avoid his company, as they 
would a pestilence. But few ladies are 
skeptical in their notions. It does not suit 
them, being far too vulgar and gross in its 
character, to make proselytes among them. 
They are generally afraid of it, and well 
they may be. Christianity has done all for 
them. Where this is not, they do the work 
of the field and house both, while the men, 
like lazy lubbers, sit and look on, or bask in 
the sun in careless inaction. 

The Christian religion is therefore dear to 



PROFANATION OF THE SABBATH. 151 

females, because it has placed them where 
God and nature intended they should be. 
It has ennobled, educated, and exalted them. 
Well may they hate the very appearance of 
that which, by possibility, should it prevail, 
might deprive them of their natural place, 
and again degrade them so, they should be 
viewed as beasts of burden. I do not slan- 
der infidelity, though I thus speak, but utter 
a plain truth, which the history of mankind 
fully proves. Is it not meet, then, that you 
should be cautioned against imbibing its in- 
sidious poison ? Be careful of your society, 
what books you read, and w T hat notions you 
adopt in early life, and you will be compa- 
ratively safe. 

Profanation of the Sabbath, is another vice 
of most ruinous tendency, against which you 
should be specially on your guard. And 
this caution is at this time specially called 
for. It seems but a light matter for a young 
man, who has been toiling all the week, to 
take a little recreation on the day of rest. 
And many justify it in part as being only a 
trifling irregularity, which should be excused 
by the community, because of its contributing 



152 PROFANATION OF THE SABBATH. 

to the health and happiness of the laboring 
classes. It is quite easy for men, who are 
guilty themselves, to extenuate faults in 
others. But the questions with each youth, 
who desires to rise to respectability and use- 
fulness, are, What is right ? What is the 
will of Him who appointed the Sabbath? 
Who are the most respected, contented, and 
happy during life — those who break, or those 
who remember it to keep it holy ? These 
queries, duly investigated, will teach us that 
it was established by the Creator of the 
world, with the most benevolent intentions, 
and the sacred seal of His authority is 
stamped upon it, as solemnly as upon any 
law He has given to man. We shall thereby 
see, that in proportion as communities and 
individuals have risen in the scale of virtue, 
morality and happiness, they have venerated 
and sacredly observed this holy day ; and 
equally as they have declined in virtue, piety, 
and belief of the Bible, they have profaned 
and disregarded it. So that the shortest 
way to ascertain the true condition of any 
people, as to morality, virtue and peace, is 
to enquire how they observe the Sabbath. 
Th> will test the matter, the world over. 



REMEMBER THE SABBATH. 153 

Breaches of the Sabbath law, like all other 
vices, commence in small matters. Neglect 
of the house of God renders its hours tedious, 
and the mind afflicted with loneliness and 
ennui ; relief must be had, and a walk, a 
ride, a social interview with a few friends in 
some appropriate place, are each deemed 
harmless, and therefore resorted to. Soon 
the sacred purposes of the day are forgotten, 
and it is viewed as a day specially intended 
for recreation and amusement. But let all 
remember, that moral character, both with 
communities and individuals, falls with the 
sacred character of the Sabbath. It always 
has been so, as the history of the world fully 
proves, and most likely always will be. 

" Remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it 
holy," therefore, should be kept before the 
mind of every youth who would look forward 
with hope. Its remembrance should lead 
him to stay away from the place of trade, 
the halls of amusement, club-houses, tap- 
rooms, steamboats, cars, and infidel debates 
and lectures. Sabbath-breakers may have a 
merry life, but it is usually a short one. He 
who would have a long life, and see good 



154 REMEMBER THE SABBATH. 

days, must heed the command of God re- 
specting this day. It is rarely that a man 
succeeds in business, who habitually tramples 
upon the law of the Sabbath ; and equally 
rarely that he sustains an enviable reputation 
among his fellows. 

And not to extend my remarks further, 
allow me to say, w T ith an excellent writer, 
" Were this the last stroke of our pen, and 
had we reached the last moment of our life, 
we should employ both the one and the other 
in enforcing on our readers the divine injunc- 
tion, < Remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it 
holy. 5 For if the threatenings of God are to 
be believed — if all history is not a lie — if it 
be notorious that genteel Sabbath-breakers 
are totally destitute of Christian experience 
— and if the confessions which the profligate 
have made in our jails, and on our gibbets, 
cannot be invalidated, then the face of the 
Lord is set against them that turn the Sab- 
bath into a day of pastime, or of gainful toil ; 
and, on the other hand, if the promises of 
God are true — if the concurrent voice of 
sacred and profane history is to be received 
— if the testimony of righteous kings, just 



LIGHT READING. 155 

judges, godly bishops, and the holiest men 
in all lands, is entitled to credit — and if the 
joyous experience, the domestic happiness, 
the sanctified prosperity, and the peaceful 
and triumphant deaths of myriads of God's 
people, are to be regarded as evidences of 
his favor, then it is demonstrated that God 
loves, honors, and saves all those who < Re- 
member the Sabbath-day, to keep it holy.'"* 
Light reading , is also becoming an evil of 
some magnitude ; by amusing the passions, 
it is deadening and stupifying the conscience. 
Unbelievers would, by the force of depravity, 
be much more numerous than they now 7 are, 
if men had not consciences to arouse them 
to study the Scriptures, and lead to medita- 
tion on divine things. Whatever, therefore, 
so amuses and lulls as to do away the force 
of moral feeling, effectually hardens the 
heart, and thus disarms conscience of its tre- 
mendous power. The consequence is, reli- 
gion is at first treated as a light and unim- 
portant matter, and afterwards reviled. Nor 
have I much more faith in religious light 
works, so called. Their authors have no 

* McOwen. 



156 LIGHT READING. 

doubt meant well. They hoped to displace 
those of a worse character. Of such motive 
I do not complain, but the policy is at least 
doubtful. It is catering to a morbid appe- 
tite, which should be subdued, not supplied 
and fed. The plain truths of religion should 
be taught in a plain and Scriptural way. 
Both learning and piety have suffered from 
this perverted taste for works of fiction and 
fancy. Study has thereby become too super- 
ficial, and taste for close thinking, in many 
cases, lost altogether. 

He who would make a great man, or even 
a good and useful one, must think, and those 
books are always best which make him think 
most. Reading alone is not study. To 
study, is to read and analyze, examine, 
arrange, compare, and collect evidence to 
sustain or refute the matter under investiga- 
tion, so that it may take its place among 
things admitted or rejected. He, therefore, 
who would wish his mind to be of the right 
cast, his mora] standing enviable, and his 
religious sentiments sound and trustworthy, 
must read those works, and pursue such 
studies, as tend to form such character. If 



AMUSEMENTS. 157 

light works are read, it should be as dessert 
is eaten, after the more strengthening food 
has been used. Then it is done merely for 
relaxation, or the recreation of the mental 
faculties. 

I must not neglect to caution you to be on 
your guard also against the bewitching amuse- 
ments of large cities and dense populations. 
That of the theatre perhaps is the most de- 
structive to morals and virtue ; therefore I 
will give it greatest prominence. The danger 
to be apprehended from this source to young 
persons is truly startling. I am really at a 
loss to know in what terms to speak of it, 
that my remarks may be useful. To many 
the temptation is indeed great ; nor can this 
be a matter of wonder, when the splendor of 
the edifices, the decorations, the music, skill 
of the actors, and all the fascinations of the 
place, are taken into account. Add to this 
the puffs of almost every editor, the large 
play-cards that obtrude upon our vision at 
almost every corner of the street, pass where 
we will, and the attendance of fashion, gaiety 
and beauty, nearly every night in the week 
for a whole season. To the aged and sober 
14 



158 THEATRES. 

all this may hold forth nothing at all inviting 1 ; 
but with the young it is far otherwise. Na- 
turally fond of company, their spirits always 
high, they are apt to disrelish that which does 
not thrill them with excitement. The con- 
ductors of theatres, fully aware of this, try to 
make the most of it ; hence the imposing 
character of their bills, abounding with pro- 
mises of great sport, buffoonery, clownish 
tricks, and a thousand other nameless follies, 
at w 7 hich a wise man would blush. 

A young man who yields himself to the 
fascinating power of such temptations, is as 
good as ruined. Unless his income is large, 
the expense of attendance upon theatres will 
be found to drain his pockets of all his ready 
change, and thereby occasion him much in- 
convenience, to say the least of it ; but in a 
few years he will wish for the money thus 
uselessly thro w r n away, to aid him in starting 
business. If he has now more than his im- 
mediate wants call for, it should be duly taken 
care of and preserved for future necessities. 
I believe, however, the presumption generally 
is, that those who habitually frequent theatres 
soon become moneyless. The habit once 



THEATRES. 159 

formed, and appetite fixed, it must be grati- 
fied at any hazard. Money must be had, 
honestly if possible — dishonestly if necessary. 
Had it must be, if the merchant's desk has 
to supply it. The confession of numerous 
juvenile offenders, and reports of the police 
in all large cities, show that in a majority of 
cases the temptation to steal was induced by 
the habit and desire of attending theatres. 
Such a taste once contracted, and a man will 
do almost anything, as the moral checks and 
restraints which before governed him are 
done away. 

The time which they are the means of de- 
stroying is also worthy of consideration. We 
have before alluded to the importance of time 
to persons in the morning of their days. Time 
is never wasted with impunity. It is a valu- 
able which cannot be stored up, as it is spar- 
ingly dealt out to every man. Theatres 
generally open at 7 o'clock, and continue 
until 11 or 12 o'clock. Four hours are thus 
devoted to folly and childish play. If no 
other evil could be named, this total loss of 
time should deter every youth from attend- 
ance at such places. That much time each 



160 THEATRES. 

day spent in labor would soon give a man 
competence, if the product were carefully 
saved. If spent in reading and study, the 
world would soon feel his influence. In fact, 
it amounts to one quarter of a man's active 
life, if carried through the whole yeSr. 

Bat the moral effect of such amusements 
is most disastrous. The testimony of all ages 
and all nations pays a full tribute to this truth. 
In the neighborhood, or within the walls of 
each theatre, there is always found a refec- 
tory, where are exposed labelled canisters of 
all sorts of liquor. Temptations to indulge 
the appetite are held out on every side. The 
company, the amusement, the hilarity, all aid 
in overcoming the power of resistance ; and 
many a man has found by experience that the 
only way to resist successfully was to stay 
away. I have spoken of the company fre- 
quenting these earthly hells. It is well known 
that no theatre could long exist unless free 
tickets were given to abandoned females, or 
they w T ere admitted in some way. They at- 
tract more than the actors or the showy play- 
cards. It has been w T ell termed a house of 
assignation, to which resort the abandoned 



THEATRES. 161 

of both sexes. What young man, therefore, 
who pretends to good moral character, dare 
attend theatres, unless in disguise ? I marvel 
— it is a matter which excites in me perfect 
wonder — how any parent can consent to allow 
his son, just ripening into manhood, to visit 
such a place. I consider it, and sad expe- 
rience has proved it in thousands of cases, to 
be the direct road to ruin. I never attended 
a theatre once in my life, but I have watched 
with feeling interest the downward course of 
those who have, and therefore here raise my 
warning voice to all young men, which I 
hope they will heed before iniquity prove 
their ruin. 

Nothing has yet been said concerning the 
representations there witnessed, nor of the 
moral character of the actors themselves. 
Into this I do not wish to enter ; but I be- 
lieve it may be safely asserted that there is 
no young gentleman of standing but w T ould 
spurn the society of those in the day-time at 
whom he loves to stare and laugh at night. 
And it is a problem which the moral portion 
of the community will never be able to solve, 
how ladies of taste, modesty and refinement 
14* 



162 THEATRES. 

— ladies whose faces are taught to crimson 
at the least indelicate suggestion in company, 
can sit for an hour surrounded by young gen- 
tlemen, gazing at the most indelicate antics 
and half-naked form of one of their own sex f 
imported from another country. Were they 
to see her in such < undress' in the street, 
they would throw their eyes down in an in- 
stant, nor allow the young gentlemen at their 
side to know they had noticed her. Yet — 
glaring inconsistency, and suspicious hypo- 
crisy — they can gaze at her in the theatre 
without a blush. Let no young lady pretend 
to delicacy who can sit unmoved by a sense 
of shame, and see such indecent exposures. 
Mothers, too, who cannot but feel desirous 
their daughters should grow up in possession 
of the most virtuous principles, and learn to 
scorn a low 7 and mean thought, are sometimes 
seen sitting side by side with them, joining 
in the general laugh, when they ought to 
blush. But as they sow they must reap, nor 
will the moral part of the community (how- 
ever they may feel toward the daughters) 
pity such mothers if their much loved and 
tenderly cherished ones become a ruin. How 



THEATRES. 163 

can they expect otherwise? "Plays," says 
Plato, " raise the passions and pervert the 
use of them, and of consequence are dan- 
gerous to morality." Aristotle says, "the 
seeing of plays and comedies should be for- 
bidden to young people, until age and dis- 
cipline have made them proof against de- 
bauchery." And Tacitus says, " the German 
women were guarded against danger, and 
preserved their purity, by having no play- 
houses among them." 

To these I need not add another testimony 
in proof of the evil tendency and ruinous 
results of the stage. He who would not hear 
these and be wise, would not stay his course 
of folly, though death and eternal retribution 
stared him full in the face. All your studies, 
all your wisdom, all your other virtues will 
fail to make you what you ought, and what 
you desire to be, if you yield to the seduc- 
tive snares of this temptation. Keep out 
of its way, nor select your associates from 
among those who love theatrical misrepre- 
sentations. 

And if this book shall chance to fall into 
the hands of a young lady, let me warn her 



164 DISOBEDIENCE TO PARENTS. 

to look well to the habits of the young gen- 
tleman who proffers her his hand. Does he 
habitually attend theatres? — then are his 
morals impure and grievously tainted ; so 
much so, that it will be difficult for him to 
make a faithful husband. Some vices seem 
to stand alone ; others to affect and mar the 
whole man. This, with its attendant circum- 
stances, is of the latter class. He who has 
been much at these places, has also been in 
the vilest company ; and after that, it is next 
to impossible for him to love a wife as he 
ought. Many young ladies may but little 
heed these remarks, and fondly suffer them- 
selves to be attached to a foolish fop, hoping 
that a few years will make him steady. Vain 
hope — if he has wandered out of the way of 
understanding, he generally " remains in the 
congregation of the dead." 

As I have taken the liberty to act the part 
of a monitor, and have been urging such 
cautions as I have deemed important, suffer 
me in addition to what has been already said, 
to advise you to guard against disobedience to 
parents — a sin w T hich I believe to be one of 
the most heinous in the sight of God. Nor 



DISOBEDIENCE TO PARENTS. 165 

is it otherwise in that of all wise and virtuous 
men. Parental government and control is a 
fixed and sacred ordinance of Jehovah, ne- 
ver disregarded with impunity. Persecution 
against religion has been said to be the last 
crime that the Divine Being would fully par- 
don. I rank disobedience to parents with it. 
Domestic order is the soul of society ; and 
had not the Creator of men protected it by 
His special authority, His work would have 
been imperfect. With reverence do I say 
this, and with firmness do I believe it. But 
it is not left unguarded. The command is 
imperious, " children, obey your parents in 
all things, for this is right." The first com- 
mandment with a promise is recorded in its 
favor, and long life it is declared shall result 
from it; while early death, and all the woes 
ever visited upon crime, may be confidently 
looked for and expected in all cases of dis- 
obedience. I know an old gentleman now 
residing in this city, who has reached nearly 
his ninetieth year — who says, and firmly be- 
lieves, that his life is prolonged because of 
his strict obedience and faithful attention to 
his parents. 



166 DISOBEDIENCE TO PARENTS. 

I believe with him, though I may thus ex- 
pose myself to the charge of fanaticism. Let 
the history of every man who lives to ad- 
vanced age, be examined in the light of this 
doctrine, and it will be found true. All 
general rules are said to require exceptions, 
but I doubt whether any need be demanded 
here. The question may rest upon its own 
merits, and be tested by matter of fact. 
Whenever, therefore, I see a disobedient and 
unkind child, at whatever age, I always judge 
that he will run a short race and die a miser- 
able death. Such do not generally die in the 
ordinary way. In most cases the Divine 
Being vindicates his truth by putting a mark 
upon them in life and in death. Many whom 
I have been called to visit in their affliction, 
when I have remarked upon its singularity 
of type, have replied — it is all because of 
disobedience to my parents. The Judge of 
the universe never holds him guiltless who 
disregards parental law and authority. He 
may triumph for a while, and think all is 
well ; but a fearful plague is in his dwelling, 
and although it may long remain concealed, 
it shall break out some time, and give him 



AN AWFUL EXAMPLE. 167 

more pain than all the other misfortunes of 
his life put together. 

Community has recently been shocked by 
the report of an awful tragedy in a neigh- 
boring city. Murder has been perpetrated 
under the most revolting circumstances in 
cold blood. To the transaction, or any facts 
connected with it, there is no occasion to 
call your attention, as you are acquainted 
with them already. But my purpose is rather 
to look at the man who is said to have com- 
mitted it. It is asserted that John C. Colt, 
apparently a fine specimen of a well propor- 
tioned man, was guilty of the foul deed. 
What could have prepared him for so bloody 
and unnatural an act ? for such crimes are 
never committed without due preparation. 
The ruling and reigning sin of his whole life 
has been disobedience and insubordination. 
This has characterized him from his child- 
hood upwards. This, says a periodical, " is 
the germ whose growth has been so bitter. 
His whole course has been marked by self- 
will, breaking through all the common re- 
straints of the family, of the school-room, 
of the counting-house, of social life, and the 



168 DISOBEDIENCE TO PARENTS. 

laws of God. John C. Colt has been for 
fourteen years a voluntary exile from the 
parental roof. Let the child who will not 
submit to be checked and managed, tremble 
for the end of his own career ; and let the 
parent tremble for the child, who cannot be 
made to yield to just authority, and let him 
never dare to hope that the youth whom he 
cannot control, will learn to control himself 
and curb his own wild passions." 

I believe it to be utterly impossible for the 
ungovernable and disobedient child ever to 
prosper. The advice and judgment of pa- 
rents should be respected, not only by those 
under age, but in all after life. Legal obli- 
gation may cease at a definite age, but natu- 
ral obligation never. Propriety will forbid 
the child to contradict and contend with the 
parent at any age or period of life. And 
though the parent may be in the wrong, and 
therefore the child may feel compelled to 
differ with him, silence or the most tender 
remarks should characterize his course. 
Even a drunken parent should receive the 
respect of his children, and the utmost ten- 



POLITICAL STRIFE. 169 

derness of treatment, — at least with all such 
as wish for long life and to see good days. 

Another evil, against which you should be 
on your guard, is the mania of political 
strife. To take a proper interest in the af- 
fairs of your country is required of you as 
good citizens. But in doing that, it most 
certainly is not necessary that you become a 
violent partizan, and heedlessly follow the 
dictation of party leaders, whose principal 
stimulant is the hope of gain. You can 
cast your vote according to the dictate of an 
enlightened judgment, and then quietly re- 
tire to the duties of your profession. This 
is quite proper, most certainly right, and the 
duty of every man. But every man must 
take care how he meddles with political af- 
fairs, as it is one of the most engrossing 
matters known in any country. Samuel 
Drew, the metaphysician, was once in the 
shoe business, but by some means became 
deeply interested in the affairs of govern- 
ment. He says of himself, that he was in 
the habit of spending the principal portion 
of the day among his political friends, dis- 
cussing affairs most interesting to such men, 
15 



170 SAMUEL DREW. 

and in the evening he usually returned to 
his shop, and worked very late at night to 
redeem lost time. On one occasion of the 
kind, a boy passed, and tapping at his win- 
dow cried out, "Ha! you play all day and 
work all night!" This Mr. Drew admitted 
to be the best and kindest reproof he ever 
received. It changed his whole course of 
life. From that time he resolved to cease 
being a politician, and take care for himself. 
Thus commenced his career of improvement, 
which continued until death, and has placed 
his name among those whose memory shall 
never perish. Had he continued a politician, 
his business would have wasted away through 
neglect, his strong mind would never have 
been brought out, nor his real greatness 
have been known to mankind. 

He who suffers himself to fall into the 
political current knows not where it will 
carry him. His motives may be pure enough 
in the outset, and his morals may be good ; 
but associating with the vulgar, spending 
hours together in the midst of dense crowds, 
and sometimes in bar-rooms too, he must 
have more stability and firmness than ordina- 



OFFICE-SEEKERS. 171 

rily falls to the lot of mortals, if both his 
principles and morals do not give way. In- 
dustrious habits are also in great danger 
from such associations. Who ever feels like 
work on the day following a night of merri- 
ment and outrageous hilarity occasioned by 
party triumph? That day is generally lost. 
If that were all, it would be a small matter ; 
but it is not. Expenses increase, and in- 
come diminishes, as this fearful mania drives 
its victim forward in the road to poverty and 
ruin. His business is finally given up, and 
to obtain subsistence he sues for a petty 
office, and is successful in his application. 
For a season all seems to go on swimmingly ; 
but ere he is aware, the tables are turned, 
his office is taken from him, given to another, 
and he is sent adrift to provide for himself. 
What can he do ? he has lost his business 
habits and his character for good citizenship : 
he " cannot dig, and to beg he is ashamed." 
There is one resource yet left him, — poor 
fellow, — one business (if it be lawful to call 
it such) ; he can keep a filthy grog-shop, 
and get a scanty subsistence by filching fips 



172 THE RESULT. 

from the leaky pockets of neighbouring 
loafers. 

Such, in too many instances, is the termi- 
nation of the career of many young men 
who arose into life with the most flattering 
prospects. Had they avoided the evil against 
which I am now warning you, they would 
have lived in comfort and respectability — 
perhaps in wealth and honour. But they are 
gone beyond the reach of hope and recovery. 
Let their sad fate be a caution to such as are 
yet unentangled by the net which has first 
bound and then led them to ruin. 



USEFULNESS. 173 



CHAPTER V. 

DUTIES OF YOUNG MEN. 

All that has been recommended in the 
foregoing pages, intellectual and moral cul- 
tivation, character and standing, are vastly 
important to every young person, but they 
are only preparatives for usefulness. To 
gain these in any good degree, is to acquire 
a power, which, if properly used, may be 
extensively felt, not only among those who 
are our immediate associates, but by all men 
throughout society. A stone thrown into the 
glassy bosom of the lake, sends its waving 
ripple to the distant shore. Creation, in its 
wide extent, now 7 feels the effect of the little 
Sabbath-school, raised by the toil and piety 
of Robert Raikes. 

Nothing is more true than the declaration, 
"No man liveth to himself, and no man 
dieth to himself." Our every act has in- 
15* 



174 USEFULNESS. 

flaence somewhere for weal or wo ; — for the 
happiness or misery — now and hereafter — 
of those who are about us. Every man is 
so connected with the multitude, that he is 
either doing them good, promoting their 
peace, or destroying it. The blessings which 
your fathers have bequeathed to you, their 
children, are far richer than empty titles, 
and yet you would pity the son who would 
throw even these away. How much more 
strongly are you bound to keep and preserve 
the legacy left you ! But you are not only 
to guard the law r s and liberties of your coun- 
try, and see that they are maintained entire, 
you are expected to look w r ell to its morals 
too. Liberty never continued long in any 
country, after its morality had departed. 

There are many conservative influences 
now at work in our country, the direct ten- 
dency of which is to preserve the morals of 
the people, and thereby bless the land in 
w T hich we live. The public preaching of 
the gospel and means of grace are of this 
character. Were the churches blotted out 
of existence and erased from the map of our 
country, preaching suspended, and all public 



EFFORTS NOW BEING MADE. 175 

prayer to cease, in vain would the magistrate 
hold his seat and endeavour to preserve or- 
der. Anarchy would soon ensue ; anarchy 
of so fearful a character as to render life and 
property unsafe. Your duty then is clear 
and plain before you. No argument can be 
needed to convince you that your influence 
is fully and decidedly to be cast on the side 
of religion and virtue. Stand by the public 
means of grace as one of the main bulwarks 
of your country's freedom, nor ought you to 
be willing to hear religion reviled. 

This, however, is not enough ; you should 
be active in its promotion. It is the opinion 
of most of the wise and good, that we live 
on the eve of an important and most event- 
ful period. The world's population is be- 
coming consolidated. The nations which 
were once farthest apart, are now being 
brought near to each other by the improve- 
ments of modern times. Efforts for the 
evangelization of the world are now made 
with an energy hitherto unknown. The 
Bible is to be published to every nation 
under heaven, and missions are to be estab- 
lished on every heathen shore, so that " all 



176 MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. 

may know the Lord, from the least to the 
greatest." Christian nations are to do this; 
none else can. The Divine Being, and all 
good men, are deeply interested in this great 
work, nor can the smiles of God be expected 
to rest upon neutrals ; every man is called 
upon to aid in this business, to exert his in- 
fluence, be it great or small, and contribute 
of his substance in its promotion. 

Churches are to be erected to accommo- 
date our home population with places in 
which they can hear the word of God. Sab- 
bath Schools are to be kept up, and all the 
children in the lanes and streets of cities, as 
well as in the sparse country, are to be 
brought under their beneficial influence. 
Who is to do all this ? The very ones whom 
I am now addressing. The young men of 
our land are bound to be foremost in these 
great works of mercy and reform. They 
owe it to those w T ho have gone before, and 
to the generation that shall come after them ; 
they owe it to God and themselves. All 
excuses for idleness are inadmissible in this 
stirring and active age. The time was, 
when these mighty interests could be ne- 



SABBATH SCHOOLS. 177 

glected with comparative impunity; but, 
thank Heaven, that time is passed by, never 
to return. 

The teacher in a Sabbath School is in a 
process of education, which will soon create 
for him distinction. His moral and intel- 
lectual powers are both being trained for 
future activity and greatness, and his store 
of knowledge is continually receiving new 
acquisitions. Sabbath School libraries are 
daily increasing, by the addition of new 
works on all subjects within the range of 
human knowledge and research, to all of 
w r hich he has a ready access. This is no 
trifling circumstance to such as have not 
the advantage of a library of their own, and 
whose chief complaint is want of access to 
the right kind of books. To all such I 
would say, become teachers of Sabbath 
Schools at once, and your wants in this re- 
spect are met. 

Sabbath School libraries have become 
large, and are the best to be found anywhere 
for young people. Almost everything you 
desire to know, can be learned from some 
volume there found. You can read the 



178 SABBATH SCHOOLS. 

whole library without its costing you a cent. 
But the one-tenth, nay, not one volume 
scarcely, can be read carefully without profit. 
All the apprentices' and circulating libraries 
in the world — though they are vastly useful — 
have not done, or are doing, half the good 
that those attached to Sabbath Schools are 
now doing. So that he who engages in 
these nurseries of piety, virtue and know- 
ledge, if he pursues the right course, is 
doing far more for himself than for those he 
instructs, although he be one of the most 
useful teachers in the school to which he 
belongs, 

Every man whom God hath made, has his 
place and his allotted work in His creation. 
Those who have the least talent, and by cir- 
cumstances seem to command the least influ- 
ence, are sometimes made instruments of the 
greatest amount of good to their fellows. No 
one knows what he can do, or what God has 
intended him to do, until he has tried. Each 
one should be actuated by the desire to leave 
the world a little better, for his having lived 
in it. A worldly and wealthy man once took 
pains to show a friend of mine his well culti- 



EDUCATION OF THE YOUNG. 179 

vated and highly improved lands. My friend 
afterward took occasion to enquire, what ob- 
ject he proposed to himself in all his labors 
and cares ? Said he, " You have property 
enough to ensure your own comfort while 
you are here, without further effort." What 
think you w r as his reply ? Let every young 
man, and especially every Christian, hear it. 
" I wish to leave the world a little better for 
my having lived in it. 35 What a motive for 
a man confessedly without the fear of God ! 
Did every man feel the action of such an 
impulse, what a world would this soon be ! 
This land would be the garden of the Lord, 
and every heathen shore w T ould soon be 
visited by missionary feet — the precious 
Bible be in every man's hand, and the song 
of salvation go up from every tongue. 

" I would earnestly advise that your en- 
quiries and benevolent efforts be especially 
directed to the moral and spiritual benefit of 
children and young people. He that searches 
out a child or a young person, and especially 
a young man, of amiable and promising cha- 
racter, and secures for him a good literary 
and religious education, may be said to be 



180 EDUCATION OF THE YOUNG. 

doing good in the most solid and permanent 
form that is possible. The longer I live, the 
more deep and solemn is my conviction, 
that neither pastors, nor church sessions, nor 
associations of Christians, pay half as much 
attention to the religious training of the rising 
generation as they ought. I believe there is 
no branch of the religious effort more likely 
richly to remunerate the zeal bestowed upon 
it, than searching out the children of the 
needy and vicious ; providing for their moral 
and religious education, and teaching them 
to live to God, to their country, and to their 
own happiness. The seed that is sown thus 
early, is most likely to produce the richest 
harvest ; and I know of no method more 
likely to win careless parents to God, and 
to the church, than well-directed and perse- 
vering efforts to give the best training to 
their children."* 

Where much is given, much is required. 
There is no question but many are short- 
lived because they are useless. God re- 
moves them to make a place for others who 
will be more useful. And why should he 

* Dr. S. Miller. 



TEMPERANCE. 181 

not? Had you hired servants, you would 
do the same. Why allow a man to occupy 
a place which he is too lazy to fill, with 
honor to himself or usefulness to his fellows? 
You must therefore work, or be displaced by 
Him who put you where you are. Neces- 
sity is laid upon you, and wo to you, if you 
work not. 

It is said of David, that, " after he had 
served his generation, he fell on sleep. " To 
be approved of God, and blessed in life, 
every man must "serve his generation." 
"No man liveth to himself." He who made 
us never intended we should. Wo to him 
who tries to evade this law of God and na- 
ture. He will most likely have a rough path 
to travel, and but little real consolation in 
the journey — but few to sympathise with 
him in his afflictions, or mourn after him, 
when he " goes the way of all flesh." 

There is another field of usefulness, re- 
cently opened to the enterprising, in the 
temperance reformation. This, next to reli- 
gion, is the most potent and godlike in its 
energies for good to mankind, of any other 
enterprise. It is yours, it is mine, it is the 
16 



182 TEMPERANCE. 

duty of all men to co-operate in this mighty 
system of usefulness. The presumption is, 
that you are temperate, in the strictest mean- 
ing of the term. If this be not the case, all 
the foregoing suggestions and recommenda- 
tions are worthless to you, — however much 
they may benefit others, in your case they 
are utterly lost. Intoxicating liquor, in any 
of its forms, is dangerous to every man, but 
more especially to young persons. If you 
taste it, as a drink, in any way, you are un- 
safe, as the man whose boat is within the 
draught of the falls of Niagara, and your 
w T hole energy should be exerted, until you 
have reached a place of safety. Where the 
mighty have fallen, the feeble should feel the 
danger. Mr. Todd says, in relation to an- 
other matter, " When you see the tail of a 
fox projecting from the hole, you may be 
sure the fox is there ;" and when you see a 
man tasting liquor, you may be sure he will 
be a drunkard, if he does not cease such 
practices soon. 

Being free yourself from the destructive 
wiles of so merciless a destroyer, it is your 
duty and interest to aid in freeing others. 



TEMPERANCE. 183 

What would be thought of the man who, 
because he was safe himself, was there- 
fore to refuse to assist in saving a drowning 
man ? He would be justly called a murderer. 
And I wish you to bear it in mind, that you 
will do yourself a vast and incalculable in- 
jury, if through pride, fear of reproach, or 
desire of popularity among the vulgar, you 
avoid bringing to bear upon the temperance 
reformation the whole weight of your influ- 
ence. The very fact that you stand neutral, 
while the two parties are contending in the 
heat of battle, is in reality and will be esteem- 
ed a most suspicious circumstance. "He 
who is not for us is against us." The lines 
are now so drawn, the parties so divided, 
that all who are not for the cause of temper- 
ance are deemed its enemies, declarations to 
the contrary notwithstanding. This is a 
wordy age, and many a man has declared 
himself the friend of temperance who was its 
veriest enemy at the same time. To question 
the policy, and frown on the well-meant 
efforts of temperance men, who are forward 
and active in the cause, by saying " they go 
too far," is the known habit, the only argi*- 



184 TEMPERANCE. 

ment of moderate drinkers and wine-bibbers, 
who have quite substantial reasons for not 
approving our measures. I say substantial 
reasons, because, having been acquainted 
with many sturdy and violent opposers of 
the temperance reformation, and having made 
full inquiry into the real causes of such op- 
position, I have rarely if ever traced them to 
more than two, appetite or interest, the de- 
canter or the purse* Both are unworthy of 
immortal men ; nor are they less so of good 
citizens. The one who opposes it from ap- 
petite usually falls a victim to his habits in a 
few years ; and the other may perchance 
amass a fortune and retire to live on his ill- 
gotten gains. But he is not happy in life, 
and his treasure will most likely pass out of 
the family, so rapidly that his children will 
all die poor. This at least has been the case 
in so many instances, that it warrants the 
presumption. 

I wish to apprize you of the fact that you 
cannot trifle with this matter and be guiltless. 
It is trifling with misery in its most degrading 
and appalling forms, and playing with death, 
as children play with marbles. If you were 



TEMPERANCE. 185 

to see a man set up business, and open a 
shop in the heart of a dense population, for 
the sole purpose of poisoning community 
by administering arsenic to all whom he 
could entice into his den, would you not feel 
bound as a good citizen to try to break him 
up ? If public meetings were called to ex- 
press the indignation of the people at his 
course, would you not make one of the num- 
ber? I know you would. Nor will you 
long be called a good citizen unless you do 
the same in relation to liquor sellers. Their 
purpose is not to destroy men, it is true, but 
they do it notwithstanding, and you know it, 
and are therefore bound by every argument 
and reason that can influence an honest man, 
to oppose them in their work of death. 

By taking a decided stand in the front rank 
of the temperance army, and exerting your- 
selves like men, you may win laurels of re- 
nown, and wear them during life. In fact, 
I know of no path to usefulness and popu- 
larity so easy and short as this. Here you 
can accustom yourselves to useful labors, to 
public speaking, and the management of in- 
fluence at an early day. And can you deny 
16 * 



186 » RESPONSIBILITIES. 

yourselves the honorable reputation to be 
acquired in such a work of mercy ? 

The world has a great claim on you, be- 
cause of the important relation you bear to 
society. Useful or injurious to others you 
must be. Your fathers of a former genera- 
tion are many of them yet living, and fixing 
their eyes upon you, wondering what course 
you will take. To their tottering age you 
will be expected to lend the hand of kind 
assistance, to close their eyes in death, and 
quietly lay them in the grave. Behind you 
and treading fast in your footsteps are the 
members of another generation, whose habits, 
modes of life, and thought, you will mightily 
influence, either for good or for evil. A vast 
burden of responsibility is thus laid upon 
your shoulders without your consent ; nor 
can you easily or innocently shake it off. 
Circumstances now existing place you far in 
the advance of those who have gone before, 
and therefore more is expected from you, — 
w T ide is the field for the display of your active 
powers, and vast are the interests staked and 
pending on your decision. 

Practical benevolence is in this day a great 



RESPONSIBILITIES. 187 

and ennobling virtue Selfish parsimony, as 
it ought to be, has always been despised by 
the worthy and enlightened in every commu- 
nity. " There is that withholdeth and tend- 
eth to poverty," has been a frequent matter 
of sad experiment. Men can do good with 
their money as well as anything else that 
they have ; nor should we ever deny our- 
selves the privilege when opportunity offers. 
I once knew a mechanic to be driven out of 
a large town by want of employment, be- 
cause he refused to cast a penny in the basket 
at church. Those who would have employed 
him, on seeing his disposition to withhold 
aid from others, refused him theirs, and turn- 
ed their work into other hands. He who 
wishes to live among men must show him- 
self a man, or he need not hope for success. 
In conclusion, suffer me to inquire if you 
can see no reason why you should attempt 
all this ? Does not the pleasure of an honor- 
able reputation for doing good, to yourself 
first, and then to the bodies and souls of 
other men, hold out an invitation so strong 
as to be difficult to resist ? Irreligion, intem- 
perance, and sin of all kinds, have united 



188 RESPONSIBILITIES. 

their energies to ruin and devastate our earth. 
It is for you, by the grace of God, to oppose 
and overcome these deadly foes to human 
peace and prosperity. It is not enough that 
you praise those now engaged in laudable 
efforts to benefit their race ; much more than 
this is expected at your hands. You are to 
take hold yourselves, and be forward in pro- 
moting every good work. You should covet 
the posts of greatest responsibility, and wil- 
lingly do the very drudgery of benevolence. 
By so doing, you shall deserve well of your 
generation, and receive all your deserts. 



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Studies from Still Life, for young pupils and draw- 
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SMITH'S JUVENILE DRAWING BOOK, 

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HOUSEHOLD VERSES. By Bernard 
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AN AUTO-BIOGRAPHY, AND LETTERS 
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WEEK AT GLENVILLE, by a Philadelphia 

lady. With numerous illustrations. 

Cloth, plain plates, 50 cents. 

" colored " 63 

■* gilt edge, plain plates, - 63 

" " colored « - 77 



PARTNERS FOR LIFE: A Christmas 
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" " " gilt, 1 00 

•* " paper covers, 38 

" Another Christmas book by a lady ! and by one 
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ways exercised for good." — Art Union. 

FIRST LESSONS IN FRENCH, by Miss 

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THE FOREST MINSTREL. A Collection 
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YOUTH'S BOOK OF THE SEASONS. 
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MYSTERIES OF CITY LIFE ; or, Stray 
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